a/n: This is short and I really can't name the cliché it deals with (perhaps the cliffhanger?). It seemed somewhat necessary after chapter 6, however, so here we go again.

Part 7: Turbulence

"Is there anything in your life more important than the game?" Touya phrased the question casually as they stood in the security check-in at the airport.

"Um, why?" Shindou was taking off his shoes to stack them in a plastic bin and wondering for the hundredth time why American airports had to be so troublesome when it came to security. He was debating whether he should have checked his fan (it was only bamboo and paper, but in a place where tweezers were a forbidden item, he couldn't be sure), as Touya answered.

"No reason," he said, suppressing a yawn. They'd only spent two days in New York, and Touya was convinced the jet-lag had yet to resolve itself. He hoped he'd be over it by the time they reached Portland. Conversation, if it could be called that, ceased as they each passed through the metal detectors under the stern gazes of airport security. Fujita-san and Mr. Gallagher, their guides while on this exhibition tour, were already waiting on the other side with the five others in their group.

The tour itself had been uneventful thus far. They'd been playing exhibition matches and discussing the game itself with American enthusiasts. While the level of players in this country was generally far below the standard found in Asia, the boisterous enthusiasm in things exotic for which this country was known had been nearly exhausting to the players. It was nice to think that perhaps the game would gain some popularity on these very foreign shores.

The flight from New York to Oregon was scheduled to take nine hours; not nearly as grueling as the journey from Tokyo to NYC three days ago, but nevertheless a long time to be stuck on a 'plane. Shindou and Touya were seated together in first class, and spent the half-hour of boarding and taxiing getting comfortable. Both stowed their shoes in the overhead compartments along with their carry-on. Touya grabbed a notebook of kifu printouts to study while Shindou pulled out a pair of headphones and an mp3 player. Touya couldn't hear the scratchy whispers of music over the ambient noise of the airplane, but watching his rival's head bob ever so slightly in time with the beat, he could guess it was rock-and-roll again.

By the time they reached their cruising altitude, Touya had given up on the kifu. The combination of concentrating on the small notations while trying to ignore the subtle shifting of the 'plane was making him feel vaguely ill, and he decided to try listening to the in-flight movie for a while. Beside him, Shindou's ears were still ensconced in the headphones, but his closed eyes and slack jaw belied his interest in music. His rival's ability to sleep anywhere was one of the many things Touya envied. At the moment, however, the comical way that Shindou's head was falling by tiny increments against the window had him more amused than envious.

The movie was boringly inane. He'd missed the first twenty minutes, and found himself unmotivated to try to figure out what was going on. The airline magazines were similarly uninteresting, but once again held the trouble of making him nauseated with their small print. With a resigned sigh, he stowed the "Travels" magazine back in the pocket of the seat in front of him. Beside him, his rival had begun to snore quietly. He thought about attempting to get a nap himself, but between his stomach and the uncomfortable nature of the seat, it simply wasn't happening. Lacking distractions and unable to sleep, Touya tried to meditate on his last game. It didn't work. He hated flying.

"Shindou?" Misery loves company. When Shindou slept through his query, he gave the sleeper a half-gentle shove. "Shindou, wake up."

"What?" Shindou's eyes were bleary and he looked decidedly annoyed at being awoken, but at least he was no longer asleep.

"I've been told the gardens in Portland, where we're to play, are quite lovely." Suddenly realizing that one has nothing at all relevant to say had never been a problem for Touya.

"You've got to be kidding me." It had often been a problem for his rival.

"The land was originally a zoo belonging to the city when--"

"I am not talking about gardens for the next," the bleach-banged man checked the display on his mp3 player, "four and a half hours, Touya." He yawned widely. "Why don't you just sleep if you're bored?"

"I'm not tired." Shindou stared at him, his look clearly conveying skepticism at this statement, but he sighed and sat up a little straighter in his seat.

"Fine." For a moment, they sat in silence, both casting about for something to discuss. "Want to play a game?" It always seemed to come down to that.

"How?" Touya was immediately interested, unsurprisingly. Shindou fully admitted to being obsessed with go, but privately liked to believe that he at least was slightly less so than his rival. Smiling, he motioned to Touya to get out of the way, then edged past him to retrieve a leather case from the overhead compartment. Within five minutes, he'd hooked up the laptop, balanced it between their two tray tables and was loading the net go program. The internet connection obviously wouldn't work, but he'd discovered that a two player mode existed that could be utilized in the absence of a remote partner.

"I'm black," commented Hikaru, typing in a handle for himself. Touya nodded, and typed in a name where Shindou pointed. He'd played net go quite a bit recently, but wasn't about to admit this fact to Shindou. The game began and Touya immediately found his irritation at flight replaced by the familiar excitement of a war in black and white. Shindou pretended annoyance at having to play rather than nap, but the ruse didn't last beyond the first two hands. They played a speed match, by unspoken agreement, and both dismissed the flight attendant's offer of a "snack" rather than interrupt the game. They finished with Touya winning by three moku less than an hour later. Neither had played at his best, but it was fun nevertheless. The helpful flight attendant came back to offer drinks and both men accepted.

"I think I'd like to play go forever." Shindou's contentment was obvious as he paused in gulping down his coke.

"Yes," Touya agreed. He allowed himself a small smile at the thought of challenging his rival until the end of time. It reminded him of a recent conversation, however and suddenly he had to know. "One wonders what Akari-san would say if she heard you, though." He watched Shindou out of the corner of his eye and noticed the slightest of frowns. Then his rival sighed and leaned back in his chair, gazing at the bank of reading lights and ventilation fans above their heads.

"She wouldn't say anything." There was an odd resignation in his voice.

"She's very tolerant. Your schedule has been quite full lately." He realized he was treading on paths they'd tacitly agreed to leave alone, but a little girl's jaded eyes goaded him.

"Why do you care?" The question held none of the ire he'd expected, instead it was as though Shindou was genuinely curious. For some reason, that was almost more disturbing.

"You're right. It's none of my business." Seeing his rival close his eyes, Touya turned again to the laptop, browsing through a file of saved kifu. He was surprised when Shindou spoke up several moments later.

"We have an understanding. We always have." His eyes remained shut. "She's my sanity. She keeps me connected to the real world, and I stay with her and take care of her while we both pretend I'm a better husband than I am." He smirked, but Akira heard the tightness in his voice. "I love her, and I know it's hard for her that I'm on the road so much, but if it came down to losing her or the game..." He didn't finish the statement. It occurred to Touya that his friend didn't know the answer himself.

"Has she asked you to make that choice?"

"No. And she won't, but I've seen Kinume watching me, and I wonder what Akari tells her when I'm away." He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, smiling. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling you this."

"I asked." For all that Akira had no idea what to say beyond that. Hikaru seemed to understand, however, in that uncanny way.

"What would you do? I mean if it came down to love or the game?" His tone was casual, and he reached to realign the laptop so they both could see it. Akira's mouth abruptly felt dry and the nausea of a turbulence that no one else seemed to notice returned with a vengeance. He sat up a little straighter himself and stared past Hikaru out the window before answering.

"I'm not the right person to ask." He turned back to the kifu displayed on the screen. "My love is the game." Hikaru seemed about to reply to this, but his rival cut him off.

"You should talk to Kinume." Akira suggested casually, while shifting to rest his forehead on his hands and his elbows on his tray table. "She thinks you'd choose the game over your family." Pressing his palms to his eyes, he continued. "Whatever understanding you and Akari have, she doesn't see it."

"When did you become an expert on my daughter?" The concern of a father for his child's whereabouts and acquaintances colored Hikaru's question, and Akira felt strangely relieved.

"She comes over to feed the ducks occasionally. She says it gets her out of her mother's hair." It wasn't the entire truth, but he had promised that the go would remain their secret.

"Oh." There was a long silence, and Akira thought perhaps the discussion was over. His stomach was really beginning to bother him, and he debated whether to stay with his friend in what had become something of an emotional moment or to give in and run to the bathroom. The 'plane lurched, and his decision was made.

When Touya returned from the jolting confines of the uncomfortable airplane lavatory, he felt almost normal again. Reaching his seat, he was surprised to see Shindou typing away at his laptop. The man was smiling strangely, and Touya wondered what had happened in the eight or so minutes he'd been absent. Shindou's moods had always been somewhat mercurial, but it never ceased to be disconcerting.

"Feel better?" his rival asked, glancing up from the screen.

"Yes. And yourself?" Touya bent to move the ends of the seatbelt off the chair before sitting, but nearly lost his balance when his rival answered.

"Yep. I just figured it out: I'm gonna retire."

The world seemed to tilt, and for once it had nothing to do with the airplane.