Disclaimer: I don't Hikago
A/N: This is a new, redone version of the previously existing fic. I changed a lot, it's now more coherent and less confusing. It should definitely be better than before,and I hope you enjoy reading!
The Hand of God – 1, 2, Sai
1) Two old men sit on the porch of their little house and enjoy the warm sun on their tired backs. It has been long since they were able to sit upright in front of the goban. Since they met, they are together on their quest, the dragon with his brilliant, black-green eyes and the lion with his formerly blond bangs who is now bold.
At some point they had moved in together to easier follow their mutual quest for the Hand of God.
Besides, they have no one else. Their path hasn't led them across a family. But even so they aren't lonely. They have each other and their shared aim.
The Hand of God.
2) The quiet 'pachi' of the stones on the goban vibrates in the souls of two men that have been eternal rivals since they were fifteen. Now, at forty, they have neatly shared all available titles between them, leaving none for anyone else.
In this game, they don't look at each other but stare spellbound on the goban and on their hands that almost move by themselves. They aren't simply concentrated any more, but a deep trance has seized them, their souls, their bodies, the stones, the goban. Everything lives, everything moves as if it had its own will.
This game has no spectators.
The players in trance don't feel the empty space around them any more. It has as little importance as the rest of the world. For them only the black and white stones exist, they fall onto their places, one after the other in their true game for the Hand of God.
3) You, as you are, as you always do, read. You are just a normal person as any other on this planet, with the small difference that as much as Akira's and Hiker's life is Go, your life is reading. You read books and mangas and fanfiction and everything else that you can seize in your greedy bookworm's claws.
That's exactly why you read on that fateful day, as you are on your way home from your favourite bookshop.
That's why you only give the traffic lights a perfunctory glance, to check that they are green.
You cross the street faithfully; of course your nose is still buried in your book.
Unfortunately for you, the turning car hasn't seen the traffic lights and even the doctors in the hospital can do nothing for you.
You know that you are dead.
But through some twist of fate your spirit can't find its peace yet. You have no time to go to heaven.
You want to go on reading…
1) Both Go-Pros have retired long ago. With their comet-like career they cut a starlight track into the Go-world. Now they cleared the path to leave the younger ones the chance to make their own way. They follow the happenings in the Go-world with old, yet sharp eyes. And sometimes, on sunny afternoons like today they are nostalgic over old times, like two common retirees.
The old men have seen so many years, played so many matches. What began with their obsession for each other became their mutual journey on which two fundamentally different personalities started, and despite their differences, despite their rivalry and even despite their similarities, they developed a deep connectivity and friendship towards each other. And even if they are very old, they still are the best players of their time. They are so near to the Hand of God that they can almost see the fingertips.
They don't play official matches any more and they don't take any disciples.
They dedicated their eventide solely to the Hand of God.
2) The stones fall on their places like of their own doing. One follows the other with deadly precision. The thoughts of the players are centred on only one thought.
The Hand of God.
3) You are dead, but you know one thing: You can't simply stop in the middle of the book! Not even if you die in the middle of the book!
Just when you are reading the last volume of 'Hikaru no Go'.
You have to know how it goes on!
That's why you settle down in a bookshop and in the heads of unaware readers. Unlike Sai, you are a silent visitor. Because you only read what the people read.
You read and read.
That can't be the end! You don't want to believe it. But the story is over. There is no sequel.
But you… you are not satisfied.
You still want to read on… you want to know how the story really ends. You have to know it.
You hope with your entire ghost's heart for it to go on. You hope and read. Finally you journey from person to person, until, on the other side of the world, you reach Japan. There are Yumi Hotta and Takeshi Obata. In Japan there is still the hope for a sequel.
1) The old men end their lunch break and return to the goban, to the game they played over the last week. It's that long one of their matches takes. It's that close they are to the Hand of God. But closely missed is still missed.
Akira Toya indicates to one of Hiker's hands: 'Here, you played a 'Sai' again. That's where he would have played. But had you played over there… and the Hand of God…' the brittle old voice fades.
'But 'Sai' had you intimidated…' Hikaru points to a black stone of Akira that rests only one point beneath the perfect hand. The old men continue analysing their match stone by stone… each hand, each figure, they tell the stories of two lives, the happenings that formed them, the persons, that shaped them. Each stone tells its particular story. They analyse everything to the last detail, recognise each happening, each form. They have to master their memories; they mustn't watch their Go through the spectacles of the past. Each hand has to be possible, or else there is no reaching the Hand of God.
They resolve the old game; slowly shuffle the stones over the lines in the wooden board.
Now will be their last game, the last match for the Hand of God.
2) The thoughts, the minds, the go of the players… each hand swashes like a wave in the ocean of the game. And each wave harmonises, augments the great wave. Each stone falls on its place. Both players are caught in their match, they mustn't make a mistake now. But then they won't. They float on the waves, pervade the water… they are the waves. There is nothing that can stop them now.
The last stone falls on its place.
The game is perfect.
3) You read and read. You seek and seek. And finally, one day many years later, you read the names that you so much sought for: Hotta and Obata.
At first your hope fires up, your heart beats faster and faster. Until the cold shock freezes your ghost-sentience when you notice the mistake that you made. As you become aware under which terrible illusion you have existed.
You, as a ghost, live forever.
Yumi Hotta and Takeshi Obata are human.
They are dead.
And with them the last hope for a sequel… deceased.
1) This is going to be their last game. Now they will see if they are able to reach the Hand of God, or if, in the end, always the journey the reward is. And that the aim is in truth inaccessible, for perfection does not lie in the hand of man, but only… in the Hand of God.
Arthritic fingers are barely able to hold the stones, and yet place them despite the shaky hands exactly on their place. Age-clouded eyes, barely able to see, still gleam with the eerie intensity of the dragon and the lion. They barely see the patterns of black and white stones on the board, but they hear, sense and feel where they are placed. Brittle voices wish a last, good game.
Yes, this is really their last game. That's what they have been preparing for the rest of their lives.
But didn't they forget something? Their past is mastered, but the present is real.
They are two humans facing each other. Humans that have an intense relationship to each other… did they overlook that? That they, through the other, their opponent, game-partner, rival, will ever be linked to each other? Like a red thread they wind through each others lives. Aren't they aware of that?
This is their last game.
They can only reach the Hand of God if they can entirely give up their past, their present and their future and live only for the game. But then, what would remain of them…?
Can a player without personality ever reach the Hand of God?
2) 'And now, how does it go on?' Akira asks. He has only gotten forty.
‚We have reached the Hand of God,' Hikaru answers. He has the same age as his friend and Go-partner.
They had finished their match, left the uplifting state of trance and sit now at the beach of the river, not far from their home. A short rain shower has only just passed and the wet landscape is filled with the characteristic smell of earth and grass. The raindrops on the leaves are aglitter in the sunlight.
'Who would believe us, if we told him?' Hikaru asks.
'What difference does that make now?' Akira answers.
The water rushes past their feet and the swirls catch their gazes. Yes, they understand the water and the water understands them.
'Will we ever play such a game again?' Akira asks.
‚Who knows…' Hikaru sways his head thoughtfully, 'You think so?'
‚No…' Akira shakes his head in a sad gesture, 'but can we ever play anything less?'
Hikaru stares at the swirls and the foam on the rain-muddy river and he discovers some clear spots.
'No', he answers, ‚Never again…'
The friends and rivals stand up and take each other by their shining God's Hands. Tears run freely down their cheeks, the rain-wet wind cooling them, so that they feel the whole path that the salty drops leave on their skin.
'It's a pity that it's already over…' Akira murmurs. In Hikaru's voice there is an equal amount of sadness. ‚Yes…'
They both stare at the river. The waves…
‚How will it go on?'
'I don't know…'
Their voices die away in the murmurs of the river.
3) Your time as a ghost is over. With a sad smile on your face, you go facing the eternity in the certainty that the uncertainty of the outcome will never be lifted.
And the answer of Sai, whom you meet in heaven, is as disappointing as only you could have feared.
"We are banned on paper. We will never become real. There will be no end to our story, because we…unlike you… we are forever banned of paper…"
Forever banned on paper.
Reviews are always very welcome!