Epilogue of the Hokuto-Cup. Part 2
"Touya."
A dark shadow of a figure glided towards him from between the monuments and shrines.
"Shindou…!" Relief quickened Akira's breathing for some moments and he almost forgot the low yelp that had escaped his throat at being thus surprised, cornered between the memorials of the Honmyo Temple that loomed around him like a black forest of stone into the night blue sky.
Blood which he hadn't been aware leaving his face, rushed back at once into his head and especially into his cheeks. The thought of ghosts, triggered by the silvery grey mist that wafted between the memorials and the slow chilly breeze that came with it and made all the little hairs on his body stand up, was divulged to ridicule by the solid, warm body beside him.
"Did I scare you?" Shindou's voice, though quiet, like his own embarrassing yelp from before resounded far through the muted monuments. "That was the revenge for all the times you scared the shit out of me…" Angrily Akira fixed Shindou's glittering eyes, merely inches away from his. He had very distinctly heard the raspy, exhausted tone, but his nerves with Shindou were wearing thin. "What are you doing, at night, at a graveyard?" he demanded to know.
"I'm visiting Shusaku's grave, as you most probably have guessed…" Although Shindou tried to sound snappy, he didn't really manage, because Akira heard how throaty and weak his voice sounded, and he, correctly, guessed his rival on the verge of tears. He put a hand on Shindou's shoulder, and felt it trembling.
What are you doing here? He immediately wanted to ask. And what is it between you and Shusaku and Sai? That there was a connection was proven by Shindou's presence here, at Shusaku's memorial stone, at Shusaku's birthday. But which was the connection between the two Go masters. Only one question was more pressing than these, a question that threatened to immediately leave his nervously quivering lips: You're not going to stop playing Go? Tell me!
But seeing his rival that drained and depleted, he didn't manage to voice any of the urging sentiments that rampaged in his heart.
He remained quiet, and looked at Shindou, who looked away. He could feel his chest moving irregularly under his hand. After some minutes Shindou seemed to calm down.
"How did you find me?" he asked his eyes not on Akira but Shusaku's memorial stone.
"Someone gave me a lucky hint."
"Someone?" his voice was low with fatigue interspersed by curiosity.
"A man named Kawai."
"Kawai?" Shindou made a chuckling noise low in his throat and Akira took his hand from Shindou's shoulder. "You know Kawai?"
"Accidentally I met him and his friends in the metro. They came from watching the Hokuto-Cup. And they… " Akira hesitated, lacking an accurate word to describe the situation, "They recognised me."
"Eh?" made Shindou at the meaningful emphasis on the word. Then he remembered Kawai's usual behaviour, "They have quite an enthusiastic way to treat people, ne?"
Akira slightly inclined his head towards Shindou. "You could say that."
"And Kawai," Shindou leaned closer and Akira turned his head towards him, frowning. Shindou didn't seem to mind, scrutinising his head –or maybe his ears? - from all sides, a strange glitter in his eyes, "Did he ruffle your hair?"
"What?" Akira exclaimed in shock.
"No, I guess not. He wouldn't dare," His voice had an amused note "That's what he always did to me…" he stopped and then grumbled, correcting himself, "what he still does to me…"
"Oh." Akira made.
"Yeah…" agreed Hikaru sarcastically, "very funny. He's about the equivalent of your Kitajima-san concerning fanatism."
Akira thought about it. "It seems we each have our own very devoted fanclub."
"Yeah-hhh…" the end of Shindou's confirmation stretched into his involuntary yawn. Falling into a heavy silence once again, Shindou pushed his hands into his pockets. With watery eyes he stared at the dark stone, where Akira barely could discern the signs on it in the yellow glow of the light that always hung over a city such as Tokyo.
Akira rested quiet for a couple of minutes and thought about how he best could approach Shindou to get him to open up. He repeated the words he had said at the tournament. He hoped it would be enough.
"There is no end…"
"Hn?" Shindou evidently shook out of his thoughts with his shoulders tensing. For a moment he looked Touya straight in the eye, before he turned back to the stone and sighed. His shoulders relaxed.
"You're right," he murmured, "It was a hard game for me, but I have to move on."
Akira suddenly let out a breath he couldn't remember holding.
"Shindou…" he began.
"No, there is no end," Shindou muttered, ignoring Akira. He seemed to be talking to himself as much as addressing Shusaku's stone. "Tomorrow I have a game against Suyon, next week I can finally play –and maybe beat – Touya," Akira bristled inwardly at such presumption, "in the Young Lions Tournament, and soon I'll rise enough to play more of the higher Dans on Thursdays - although the Hokuto-Cup was much more fun, playing people my age - and there are still so many great kifu of you I have to study…" he trailed off.
Sai… Hikaru thought, seeing his long-haired mentor sitting on the memorial stone in front of him, benignly smiling down on him, I'll never forget you and your Go… always hold you in high respect, study all that games of you… and surely I'll remember us, and never forget the games we shared. But from there on, I'll move on!
"No… there really is no end. This…" even though he spoke in such a low voice Akira heard a smile curving Shindou's lips, "This is just the beginning!"
Akira let out all his fears in one deep sigh of relief.
"Yes…" he agreed.
He let Shindou stare at the dark grave for some more minutes, before he said: "It's late. Let's go."
He saw Shindou's almost imperceptible nod and gladly turned to leave the Honmyo Temple. It was quiet and nice and peaceful here and the air smelled sweet, filled with the scent of evening flowers and blooming trees. But he was tired and exhausted and the Hokuto-Cup and Shindou's odd behaviour had torn all his nerves into tiny little pieces. He wished nothing more than simply sleep for days and nothing less than to baby-sit an emotionally instable rival at a graveyard.
When they neared the metro station, Shindou said: "I met Su Yong when I left the ceremony. He told me all that stuff from Yongha, that it was a translation mistake at first, until Yongha got provoked by me and ended up provoking me," he sighed, "somehow I can't help but feel that I made a complete idiot out of myself."
Inwardly, Akira could only agree. But he as well had been too affected to notice before. And Su Yong had told him too. "It was Kurata-sans assessment of you that you would take the next step."
"Was that why he let me play first board? I guess he can be a nice guy if he wants to…"
"Kurata-san relies on his intuition a great deal."
"Yeah, maybe…"
Silence. Their steps on the ground.
"Ah…" Shindou seemed to remember something, "why actually did you come here?"
"Just to have a look at Shusaku's memorial stone," Akira quickly lied.
"Ah." And Shindou seemed to believe him.
Before they parted, Akira said, instead of a good-bye: "Don't think that just because Kurata-san let you play first board you're better than me, because you're not."
"What?" Shindou exclaimed and prepared to protest, but Akira interrupted him. "The Young Lion Tournament will show."
"Is this a challenge?" Shindou's eyes glittered.
"It is. I'll win and there'll be nothing you can do!" He turned away. "I'm in the Go salon on Friday," the words were neutral but the tone clearly stated that he expected Shindou to be there too.
On that, he left.
"Touya!" Sounding angry Shindou called after him, "Just prepare to lose!"
Secretly, Akira smiled.
"Uwah… I can't bear it anymore!" Waya exclaimed, dropping back and, frustrated, tearing at his hair, "Let's stop discussing Shindou's game. It's just so demoralising. To think that he was insei with us just one and a half years ago…!"
The atmosphere in Waya's room was crowded, because in his one-room apartment small for one person, were packed six people around his goban. There were Waya and Isumi, opposite each other, recreating the game. Between them kneeled Honda, a freckled, light haired guy, and Ochi, whom an angry opponent once had nicknamed 'four-eyed mushroom', on one side and Nase, a sweet, pretty girl about Waya's age, and red haired Komiya, who was now on the top of the insei class, at the other. Additionally there were Fukui, speed-go specialist, and Adachi, the second in the insei ranking, lying stomach-flat on Waya's not very neatly folded futon and looking down on the game.
"Let's look at Touya's game..." Nase proposed quietly, halfway lost in discouraging thoughts how she had only beat Hikaru once, when he had been all new in the insei's first group. "At least, with Touya," she sighed, shaking her head, "we know already that was better than us since he was ten…"
Isumi, who had thought to encourage his insei friends by inviting them to the study of the Hokuto Cup game, was left ruminative by the crestfallen manner that Nase had displayed the whole evening already. "What is it, Nase?" he asked shyly, concerned.
Nase only sighed deeper in response. "It's nothing… Just… it's very frustrating for me too, looking at these games… it encourages me in a way, because I see what I want to become… I can read most of the moves they play… and it even more discourages me, because… I… I can't play like that. I probably never will…"
"Don't say that, Nase!" Waya's protested agitatedly at the depression of his friend, "You're getting better every day! You're almost at the top of insei class now!"
"Yeah…" Fukui agreed enthusiastically, his round face screwing up, as he emphasized his words. "You even beat me in every game now!"
"I know…!" she hung her head, thankful her shoulder length hair obscured her face from the worried gazes she felt from her friends. Her hair was fine strands of shining bronze… silently she wondered if a boyfriend would like her hair. What would it be like to be in real relationship? How would it be if she had the time to date someone frequently… to have a relationship, like all the other seventeen year old girls around her… everyone seemed so happy. Go was her dream, it was her life… but was it really all that was to life? And was she even good enough for it to be her all?
She emerged from her thoughts, straightening up, and announced what she had thought of long before, her voice clear and strong: "This year will be my last pro exam. If I don't pass it, it's over for me."
"You'll make it, you'll make it!" Waya encouraged her, and the others agreed and she smiled at their gentle support. But inwardly the doubts remained and she thought, If I fail, at least I'll finally have the time for a boyfriend.
Tsutsui probably would have thought twice about going to the school library for preparing his next history exam had he known he would find his now again classmate Tetsuo Kaga there. The redhead had grown in the last years and his figure had filled out quite attractively so half of the school's girls lay to his feet. As always ignoring the school rules he had grown his hair into a ponytail that even heightened his 'bad boy' appearance and made him the natural leader of the schools mischievous students… to the horror of his teachers and of Tsutsui, who somehow stupidly felt responsible of it.
Kaga was also one of the most gifted students, so knowing him for years Tsutsui knew that Kaga had a serious, studious side too. He only hid it exceptionally well from the rest of the school and Tsutsui had never seen the need to enlighten anyone about Kaga's secret learning. But at least he knew why Sunday evening found him in the school library.
Tsutsui quickly got over his surprise and stepped nearer to a Kaga who was evidently lost in his thoughts, leaning with his back to the door at an open window.
"So you're still into that bad habit of yours…" Tsutsui greeted him.
"Oh…" Kaga turned around and for a fleeting moment Tsutsui saw surprise flit over the other's face. A rather rare – and becoming – emotion, Tsutsui thought. Kaga didn't seem as haughty and hard-bitten as he usually presented himself. He got over it quickly and turned fully around, only his arm with his cigarette in his fingers remained lying on the ledge, beside his famous Shougi-fan. "Tsutsui…" he drawled, „What a surprise… I see you've come nerd-ing. And that on a Sunday…" Kaga chuckled condescendingly and even though Tsutsui heard that there was no malice behind the comment, found himself biting back. "And what are you doing, eh?" with a snappy movement of his hand that wasn't holding his book-heavy bag he indicated to the pile of open books lying on the table beside the window.
"I'm only enjoying a quiet summer evening in a place where usually no one disturbs me…" Kaga nonchalantly explained, his mouth's corners twitching. He flipped his cigarette out of the window and picked up his fan. Leaning against the windowsill, with his right foot hooked behind his left and the fan playing in his hands, he looked disgustingly cool.
"Oh, I'm sorry to be a nuisance to you…" Tsutsui knew Kaga long enough that a certain bond of uneasy friendship allowed his sarcasm.
Kaga laughed at his poor attempt at irony. "I heard you got yourself a girlfriend…" He said with a teasing, dirty grin.
Tsutsui was immediately disarmed and changed into tomato mode, bashfully stammering something unintelligible.
Kaga grinned good-naturedly and waved his hand for Tsutsui to relax. "No need to blush so badly… I almost envy you!"
"Ah? What? Ah?" Tsutsui stuttered, uneasy at this personal topic, especially in front of Kaga.
"Almost, I said," Kaga flapped his famous Shougi fan and fanned some air to his face. "But you sure need it more…" said he and fanned air into Tsutsui's hot red face, which only caused him to be more embarrassed.
"How's your Go club going?" Kaga asked, sitting down as well after Tsutsui did so, "Shall I recruit you any new members?" A feral grin decorated his face.
"No, no… that's really not necessary!" Tsutsui refused, rather uneasy recalling the incidents with Kaga at Haze. "Actually," he said, "I was watching the Hokuto-Cup today, you know, that Japan-China-Korea Jr. Tournament."
"Oh that… I've heard about it! Already some time ago. I didn't know it was today. How was it?"
"Shindou-kun was first board today!" Tsutsui enthusiastically recounted, "And he played really great against Korea's Ko Yong-Ha! Although," his mood darkened, "he lost. Team Japan lost both games against China and Korea, because Touya Akira was the only one who won, both times."
"Hn…" Kaga grunted and didn't comment on it. They diverted their attention to their history books.
"You know…" Kaga said after several pages, suddenly pensive, "I really wonder how Shindou is… Have you talked to him?"
Tsutsui shook his head. „I wanted visit Amiko-chan, er… my girlfriend, before coming here so I left just after the game…"
"Ah… the joy of sweet love…" Kaga piped jovially, making fun of Tsutsui. "I'm sure Shindou and Touya will be freed of the nuisance of having to bear a girlfriend. They would be far too occupied with their Hokuto-Cups and title tournaments and study sessions…"
"A girlfriend is no nuisance," Tsutsui contradicted, forcefully snapping a book closed. He couldn't imagine a life without his Amiko-chan any more.
"Maybe," Kaga admitted, „but not for them."
"Do you think so?" Tsutsui asked sadly, knowing that Shindou's childhood friend Akari still had a crush on him, that she still hoped that Hikaru would notice her one day.
"They work fulltime, they don't have time. But maybe? Hah," Kaga closed his fan with a snap as an idea crossed his mind, "Maybe I'll visit him someday…"
"To be his girlfriend?" Tsutsui asked absent-mindedly, only listening to Kaga with half an ear. He already had his nose buried in another book.
"What?" Kaga exclaimed and his wild red hair seemed to be standing up in even higher and straighter spikes, as if intending to punctuate his anger. Tsutsui looked up from his book, bewildered at Kaga's ire. And then it dawned on him what exactly had had just said. Which again caused him to tomato deeply red. Out of year-long reflexes of being with Kaga he immediately hid behind his books, stammering: „I…I'm ..so…sorry… I didn't… me-mean that!" He ducked his head so that Kaga's fan strike passed his head.
Then Tsutsui forgot his history exam as Kaga wildly chased him around the library.
His feet soles throbbed, sending little stabs of pain throughout his whole exhausted body, as he slowly shuffled the last few meters to his house. There were moments when he was thankful that his parents weren't at home – or rather, his father, would he be? He had been told that he'd had watched today's game. But has been seen leaving directly thereafter to continue his travelling. Just maybe… what would be if he had chosen to remain at home this night? What would he say about Akira's game? Would he be as proud of his son as he hoped he would be? – he sighed deeply and it cost every remaining strength in his body to even remain standing upright and not to be crawling on all fours. So it should be well if nobody were at home, he didn't wish for any conversation, his need of communication being entirely satisfied with the Hokuto-Cup weekend, and his body was tired from stress and a long day and running after Shindou, and his mind exhausted from the stress of training, and Shindou's stubborn determination, and the Hokuto-Cup, and of having to search for Shindou, and all the pressure from being the representative of his country, and the only one to speak the other two languages at least rudimentarily enough to be polite and being the strongest player and therefore being the one posed the most questions and having to hear out the most criticism, and because being the eternal rival of a monosyllabic Shindou having to fend off the reporters of his rival…
His train of thoughts was disrupted by a smell that penetrated his nose. As the garden door creaked open the familiar stench of cigarettes stung in his nostrils. He identified a known brand of smoking which he since he was very small had always associated with Seiji Ogata. So he wasn't surprised when he found an elegant figure, clad in the usual stylish way, only not his white suit but darker trousers and chemise with the upper buttons opened, sitting on the front porch, nonchalantly smoking a cigarette. Only the eyes of the person glittered in a dark face, silvery white, in contrast to the smouldering red tip of the cigarette stick. Grey smoke whirled around it, slowly spiralling its way into the air, unhindered by the still, already summerly, night-fresh air.
Ogata greeted him, his clear baritone voice a little raspy due to the bad habit of smoking, but nevertheless retaining deep vibrations, almost giving it an undertone of purring. "Ah… Akira-kun… "
"Good evening… er… good night, Ogata-san." Akira straightened his shoulders, conscious of the undignified act of losing his composure in front of people. And that on a night when he wished nothing more than to simply drop into his bed without any further ado. His suit which he hadn't had the time to change was rumpled and weighed heavily on him.
"So… here you are…" Ogata leisurely tipped the ash into a small ash tray standing beside him, "And I thought you would be out partying with your friends and not come back until four in the morning."
Akira froze in his steps. "I was not on a party!" he exclaimed defendantly.
"Relax…" Ogata said with a little grin in his voice, because teasing Akira was one of his favourite hobbies, the privilege of an almost-uncle so to speak, "and sit down," he patted the porch beside him. "You look tired."
Akira didn't think long about it. Glad that he wouldn't need to put on a dignified charade, which was pretty futile in Ogata's sarcastic presence anyway, he sat down beside his friend. "I am," he admitted, leaning his head on the wooden column that sustained the roof of the house.
Akira felt his eyes resting on him. He answered the unspoken question, because he knew the silences of the now two-title holder well enough, "Shindou…" he dryly explained his late home-coming and his weariness.
"Ah well…" Ogata lopsidedly grinned at Akira, "He seems to be affecting your moral in quite a unique way…"
He's my eternal rival… what did you expect? He's one of the persons I just can't let go, whatever they do, however strangely or stupidly they behave. Akira thought but didn't say it aloud.
"Though I was surprised," Ogata continued, "that he played first board today."
"You were not the only one. Most of the people wouldn't believe it at first." With a smile he thought back to people's reactions at the Cup. Now the concentration, anxiety and nervosity of the games were gone he remembered, and enjoyed, the stupefied expressions on their faces.
"And you were not?"
"Not really. It was previsible."
"It was? Shindou's already better than you?"
"He's not!" Akira protested, at once sitting up straight, flashing a glare at Ogata.
Ogata ignored it and Akira was tired enough to drop his angry gaze after several seconds and to relax back into his slouch. "And you were angry, because he played first board?"
"Angry?" Akira closed his eyes, "Not really." At Ogata's expecting silence, he added, "Should I?"
Ogata shot him a funny look, "How would I know?"
"It was a very important step for him to do, emotionally and Go-technically," Akira explained, "Kurata-san sensed that. But of course, I'd have liked to play Ko Yong-Ha too."
Maybe, tomorrow when Shindou unofficially played Suyon, he could meet Ko Yongha for a battle too.
Ogata didn't answer, so in the few minutes of silence that followed his consciousness almost slipped away. If not for his uncomfortable position, leaning against a wooden column, he would have slept in instantly.
"I let myself in, you don't mind if I sleep over, do you?" Since Ogata's was his father's most trusted and befriended student, he possessed a key to the house.
"Of course not," Akira answered sleepily without opening his eyes, because some of his longer bangs had fallen across them. "I'd be happy if you do, naturally."
Ogata only grunted and lit another cigarette. "There came a taxi, only some time ago. Said it was from the hotel you lived in and brought your bag here. Said you forgot it."
"My bag?" Akira opened his eyes and felt his eyelashes colliding with the hair that was tickling his cheeks. "Oh, yes, I called them to please bring it to me."
Ogata's silence was as eloquent as ever, urging Akira to go on speaking. "I had to talk to Shindou," he explained his unusual forgetfulness, not caring anymore if Ogata understood what he was talking about. He heard the deep intake of breath Ogata took and the rustling of his clothes as he moved his hand to his lips. Akira had already noticed that Ogata wore a more relaxed kind of clothing today, simple dark trousers, grey or black and short-sleeved polo shirt of maybe dark red colour with its collar open. It left him looking more youthful and definitely not as unapproachable as usual, because even if Akira knew Ogata wasn't at all unapproachable but rather a very social kind of person, he understood why other people might see him as such. Usually, to the study group, or even when he only came to dispute a match with his father, he wore one of his light suits, with dark blue chemises, mostly even with a tie. So today, Ogata not wearing his 'fighting gear' Akira knew Ogata did come only for him. Not because of a game, not because of his father, just for him…
A small smile crept onto his tired face all on its own and he thought that even if his parents were away, there were still people who cared for him.
"Congratulations for your wins by the way…"
"Eh?" Akira was torn out of his thoughts. "Oh… thank you…" The smile on his face widened as somewhere inside him a happy drowsy warmness grew.
"It was very strong go you played," Ogata praised the player who was on the verge of becoming a force to be reckoning with – far too fast for his own liking, he had to admit – and he was rewarded by the happy smile of the sweet, little boy he had seen grow up. But Akira shouldn't be getting too self-confident, it would be bad for his character, Ogata told himself.
"You really should thank me for it," he said, "Since it really was me who allowed your little friend Shindou to…"
"He's not my friend," Akira corrected him, a little piqued already by Ogata's prepotence, "he's my rival…"
"So… your rival then…" Ogata conceded without sounding too convinced, but a sleek smile in his voice, "you should thank me, because it was me who permitted him the insei exam and encouraged you both to chase one after the other."
"I remember…" Akira said neutrally, facing the memory of Ogata's 'encouragement' with decidedly mixed feelings.
"So you know you owe for it," the cigarette hang suspended between his lips as Ogata lazily slouched on the porch, "You both can reward me by improving. I guarantee you that in several years, ten of fifteen maybe, you'll be able to catch up to me if you try hard."
In ten or fifteen years? Akira thought, suddenly all his warm feelings towards Ogata turning cold. He truly loved Ogata like the big brother he had never had, but sometimes his conceited self-assurance was just too much! In ten or fifteen years? When would Ogata stop looking down on him and see him for the Go player he really was? Ogata didn't take him seriously. Like in the game in the Honinbo league, several months ago.
You are below me, Akira-kun. What had possessed his normally gentle friend to say the likes? And now this? It was exactly these commentaries that he despised, especially if he knew them incorrect. He had felt the difference in their strength in that game, and it wasn't as far as Ogata wanted him to believe. Did he think him stupid, or that easily influenceable?
"In ten years, I intend to beat Father," Akira answered with his voice neutrally cool. His inflection left no doubt that he considered his father well above Ogata.
Ogata laughed it off as a joke, though the hidden shakiness of it didn't escape Akira, who knew his friend so well, telling him that the intended insult had arrived and even had had its effect.
"I've beaten Sensei even in title matches and he'll fall, before you've even beaten him for the first time," Ogata retorted frostily.
Akira stood up. "I'm very tired," he replied politely, but equally without warmth, "Good night, Ogata-san. Thank you for coming."
"Tadaimaa," Hikaru called tiredly as he peeled his shoes off his feet, his eyes already half closed.
"Ah… Hikaru you're home…" his mother said in a voice raised by utter relief, "Where have you been that long? I've been so worried... I…"
"I'm okay, Mum," Hikaru interrupted impatiently, stepping from the anteroom into the corridor. To get away from his mother's scrutinizing gaze that nervously swept all over his body to check if he was ok he went into the kitchen.
As her son opened the refrigerator to get his favourite lemonade, she took a heart and even though he looked so tired and probably wouldn't answer she asked: "How was your game today?"
He cast to her a sleepy, wondering look from over the rim of his glass that he had just drunk from and that still was suspended at his lips. He considered not answering and immediately going to bed, but then he shrugged and removed the glass from his lips. "I lost…," he said.
"Oh…" his mother looked troubled and had her hand somewhere near her mouth, not really sure of how to react.
"It's okay," he told her, trying to be gentle to her, make her understand. Since he knew about Yashiro's parents he was less inclined to be rude to his mother. "It was a good game nevertheless."
"Oh…" his mother made another unsure sound and Hikaru smiled at her nice puzzlement.
"Good night, mum." He drank the rest of his lemonade and put the glass in the sink.
"Good night, Hikaru," answered his mother. "Oh, Hikaru…" she suddenly called after him.
"Yes?" he twisted his torso, one hand at the banister and one foot already on the stairs. He watched his mother hurrying out of the kitchen, hurrying in speaking. "A friend of yours came by this afternoon. Touya-kun was his name I think. He seemed to be searching for you…"
"He found me…" Hikaru smiled sleepily, "And he's not my friend, he's my rival."
We'll play… He'll be there… Sai may be gone, but there'll always be Touya…