Title: Purpose of the Game
Chapter: Gaining (2/3)
Author: Virgo
Author's Note: Oh. And I know next to nothing about Japanese culture, and only what a computer game has taught me about go. Forgive me for any inconsistencies in anything, this is v. rough just because I wanted to finish something. I promised myself I would never post anything without finishing it.
Translations: Maybe you can get this in context. If not:
omiai = Japanese arranged marriage
nakodo = Family friend who arranges arranged marriages
Disclaimer: Not mine in the slightest.
Hikaru won the first game of the Honinbo Challenge. And while the Go world was not a buzz with surprise, there were certainly murmurings about this talented young pro player who had slipped by under the radar for so long.
It was, again, the day before a Honinbo game. This time, Hikaru did not schedule any outings, any study sessions, any lunch meetings, and instead locked himself in his apartment to recreate games for himself.
The eddies and tidal flows of the first game he had played laid before him on the universe of the Go board. He studied it, remembering the reactions of his opponent, fathoming the deepness of the thought behind each move… and tried to figure out how in the next game his opponent would take his own moves and use what had been revealed in strategy against him.
And when he could learn no more from the game he had played, he cleared the board.
He meant to recreate the decisive game that had launched the current Honinbo to his title, he meant to look at his opponent's strategy as a young man in order to fathom the twists of fate that had made the old man a defending champion.
But all Hikaru could do was stare at the board. His left hand was covering the white go-ki, and the tips of the fingers of his right hand were just buried in the slate stones that would make the first move of this now historic game. And though the kifu was staring at him, all Hikaru could remember was Akari's words.
"Have you ever played with the stones, and made a perfect pattern? Have you ever played with yourself not to capture, but to fill the entire board, or nearly, so perfectly that nothing is captured or lost?"
Hikaru tried to shake the image, tried not to form patterns in his head that would allow such a possibility, tried not to do exactly what Akari had suggested… and he placed a black stone one right and one down from the center. The white he placed in a mirror image. And he kept placing stones, kept placing little soldiers to start at each other across the abyss of that one territory square left unmarred… but he reached a point where he could place no more stones without capturing, without throwing the balance off…
And he ran from his room, grabbed his coat from the banister, and burst out onto the street to breathe clouds of vaporous mushrooms, ignoring his mother's calls of concern from inside the house. He pounded the pavement, watched his steps and not where he was going, and finally paused to catch his breath, leaning forward on his knees, hair falling willy-nilly and fluttering in the fair wind, in front of the play ground where Sai had taught him to place a go stone so long ago.
Hikaru fought his heaving breath, tried to calm down from his impulsive run in the cool air, and sat on the swings.
"Why is it impossible to play an entire game of Go without capturing or gaining territory?" he asked, his voice loud enough to satisfy his aching heart.
"Because that's the purpose of the game," said Akari's voice. There was laughter behind it, a sweetness Hikaru wouldn't have expected. He was glad to hear her voice.
Hikaru whipped his head around to find the source of the voice, and saw Akari sitting on the end of the slide, not far from where he was sitting. "What are you doing here?" he asked, heart beating faster once again.
"Enjoying the night air," said Akari. "Don't you have a game tomorrow?"
"Yeah," said Hikaru. "I should be studying." There was silence, and Hikaru seemed to have said that he shouldn't have been in the park, didn't want to be talking to Akari, but neither made a move to leave, and they sat in silence for long moments.
"You tried playing the perfect game by yourself, didn't you?" Akari asked; her voice small and tentative.
"Yeah," said Hikaru. He didn't say any more.
"If there's something I learned," Akari said, "is that the point of Go is to gain territory and capture enemy pieces." She stood, hugged her elbows closer to her body and sighed. "You need someone to play with, someone to share perfection with, or perfection is pointless. I figured if anyone could fill the board perfectly, it would be you."
Hikaru studied Akari. He looked straight into her eyes. "There is perfection outside of Go, you know."
"Life is perfection, Hikaru," Akari admonished in a voice so quiet that Hikaru strained to hear. "It's just a matter of who you share it with."
"I've been thinking about you," Hikaru admitted. "All the time."
"And you," said Akari, stepping close to Hikaru. She took a deep breath and breathed in the smell of his soap and shampoo, "should be focusing on your Go."
"Will you help me focus on my Go?"
"I will play as many games with you as you need me too."
Hikaru won the next Honinbo game.
And all the rest.
====
Akira couldn't believe what he was seeing. He sank into the cushions around his mother's lunch table, staring aghast at the piece of paper in his hand. He was being invited to the wedding of Shindo Hikaru. Not only was the mere twenty-four-year-old boy the new reigning Honinbo, but he was getting married in a traditional Japanese ceremony, no less!
"Anything interesting in the mail?" asked Akira's mother, as she set down a steaming plate of rice and then sat at the head of the table. She took Akira's plate and started to spoon rice and the main dish in heaping helpings for her son.
"No, nothing," he said, and hid the invitation. Yes, it was addressed to his entire family, but he knew it was just for him, just to show him that Shindo had finally surpassed him in not one area, but two. Two! Akira knew that the leaps in jealousy was because Shindo had finally won a real title, one that would bring him fame for the rest of his days, while Akira himself was still only the 10-dan. And now he was … getting married. There was only one honorable thing to do, only one thing that would satisfy the challenge set by Shindo…!
"Mother, is there anyone we may know who is willing to act as a nakodo?"
Both his mother and father looked up from their lunches abruptly. It was his father who spoke. "You wish to marry, Akira?"
Akira looked deep into his plate of food to avoid his parent's gazes. "I wish to consider it."
"Your mother and I had an omiai," said his father. "We are quite happy."
"Do you know of anyone?" Akira pressed, hoping they would not notice the color creeping into his face.
"Yes," said his mother. "I do know of someone." She swallowed another mouthful of food. "I'll call them this afternoon."