A/N: Since there was someconfusion about the extra chapter of Chapter 1: I posted it as an extra story, 'Nightly Conversations'.I'm sorry for the confusion, but I didn't want to put it in the story after Chapter 2 had already begun, because I thought that would be a bit confusing(and to put it between chap 1 and 2 would be even moreconfusing, I think at least...). so, whohasn't read it yet and isinterested in that extra Chapter, you know where to look. :-)

As always I want to thank my reviewers for their opinions and their kind and encouraging words. And I thank BlackWingedGabriel for betaing for me.

Enjoy the next part!

Chapter 2. Part II

"Doubt is the greatest enemy of a Go player." The words of his father echoed in his memory. As Akira hadn't answered, letting the statement drift off into silence, his father had continued, "But if you can overcome it, you'll be stronger than before." His father had a strong favour for vague remarks. Sometimes they didn't bother Akira, but there were times when they did.

His parents had been at home for some months until the day before yesterday. And somehow he was glad to be rid of his father's unhelpful advice and his mother's solicitous eyes.

He opened the door to his house, ready for a calm if lonely evening. He was so tired that he decided to go to bed immediately after having made himself some dinner. Or study some kifu before? Or maybe he would study for the Korean exam that was soon to come, even if he couldn't really mount any motivation. He even considered skipping the last classes, but that would seem like graceless cowardice. He would face them with the little pride that was left to him.

He tried to shake his thoughts off as he opened the door to the house. As soon as he stepped in the anteroom, he heard the clatter of Go stones on tatami mats.

"Kiki!" Rushing out of his shoes and into the house, he dropped his bag somewhere in between and tried to locate the source of the sound.

In his room, it took him several seconds to realise that his little kitty was speeding around the place like crazy because she chased a mouse.

"Kiki!" The cat halted for a part of a second and looked at him. So did the mouse. The mouse caught itself first and ran away. Kiki immediately turned back from Akira and jumped after the mouse, catching it back with her swift paws in only a few seconds. As she held it confined between her claws, she sent him an accusing look out of her yellow eyes. You almost made me lose it.

She toyed some more with the mouse, then she bit it dead.

Akira finally got over his shock and made a step forward, but before he could even stretch his hand towards his kitty, she darted out of the room past him, the mouse held firmly in her mouth.

He looked at the messy lake of black Go stones on the floor of his room, as Kiki had pushed down a Goke in her pursuit. Beaten, he knelt down and collected the stones.

In the kitchen, he finally found his pet. She seemed back to normal and ran between him and her food bowl, meowing hungrily.

He frowned, but as his eyes passed a stack of cat food, he jolted.

Did I really forget to feed her in the morning?

He bent down to pick up the bowl, but let it almost fall in shock as the dead, half-eaten mouse looked at him.

Kiki meowed innocently.

"Please," he sighed, and flinched at the desperate sound of his own voice, "don't do that again." This was too much, on top of everything.

He fed his cat, but didn't eat himself. He had lost all appetite.

After a shower, in his nightclothes, he lay awake on his futon. He was tired, but couldn't sleep, not even a content Kiki purring beside his pillow could reassure him.

Sleepily he got up, and went to his father's room. He crouched down in front of the beautiful Goban, made of valuable, polished Kaya wood. It was dark in the room, and hot. He rested his chin onto his knees and closed his eyes for a moment. His dizziness must come from the temperature and his tiredness alike. And yet he couldn't let go of his thoughts.

When was the last time I played a worthy game? The one he had won against Shindou in the Honinbo league. But before?

Maybe the Hokuto-Cup in May, where the three competing nations had played a draw. Japan had lost to Korea and won against China. With a sad smile Akira remembered his game against Ko Yong Ha. It had been great Go, on both sides and he had won. Against China's first board, a Chinese shooting star, a sixteen year old girl, he had lost, but Shindou had won against Chao Shi, and Yashiro, who had this year again been their team-mate, had won his game too. Against Korea, only Akira had won, while Shindou had collected a cold shower from Suyon Hong and Yashiro had lost too.

But now…

I'm losing…

Badly.

With a sigh he recognised that Shindou had been right to shout at him. It didn't make it any better, though. He couldn't have reacted otherwise. It didn't take Shindou much to get him angry. And their fighting, as much as he used to enjoy it, had taken a definite turn to grating his lately rather thin nerves.

At a small noise of paws on tatami he looked up and found two glowing orbs and a shadowy figure approaching. He noticed the digital display of the video recorder in the room across the corridor. He had been sitting, staring at the Goban, for hours.

Tomorrow would be a terrible day - again, after only three hours of sleep, if at all. But maybe then, tomorrow, he would be so tired, he would stop thinking and get some sleep.

Kiki purred, a low sound in the night-calm room, and comfortingly rubbed against his calves. He stroked her fur contrary to its natural direction and smiled as it stood up in all directions.

"Now you look like Waya," he told her. She only purred louder.

But Waya was in China. Isumi too. His parents were in Taiwan and with Shindou he was angry, or the other way round.

"Are you really the only one left to me now?" He whispered hoarsely to his cat, lying down on the floor where he sat and closing his eyes. The paws of his cat as she lay down on his chest and her whiskers tickling his cheeks were the last things he noticed before he fell asleep.

"Wayaaaaa…" Waya held the receiver as far away from his head as his arm was long as not to hear Shindou's wail as clearly. "Last time when I played Touya at his Go salon I asked him if he was stressed and he looked at me as if he was ready to kill me. I said that it would be okay for me too if we didn't play that much. All he said he wasn't stressed and he'd rather go on playing."

Waya sighed. It had been going on for minutes already.

"You're just worried about Touya. Admit it," he harshly said, leaning against the wall beside the telephone.

"No, well, yes, no… hell, I don't know!"

Isumi scratched his head in a comic gesture imitating a confused Shindou and Waya had to stifle a laugh.

"Shindou…" he said, sliding his free hand into his pocket – probably wanting to look cool, even if he didn't know for whom, "Why don't you simply take care of Touya, while we're away? I'm not your nanny, you know."

"Take care of Touya?" The line was quiet for some moments. "Why?"

"Errrr." Waya was now speechless too, "Because evidently he's not well, maybe?" He sighed and rested his head against the wall. "You didn't listen to me last time at all, did you?"

"But Touya doesn't need anyone to take care of him," Shindou answered, "He made that pretty clear. I just don't want to win against him when I don't even deserve it."

Waya clenched his teeth and only didn't shout, because Isumi put a calming hand on his shoulder.

"What am I talking to you for?" he ground out, unable to conceal his angry frustration.

"Waya?" Shindou sounded suddenly uncertain.

"You're hopeless," he told Shindou.

"But…" Helpless.

"Go and figure it out for yourself! Use your brain or whatever it is you carry around with you in your head! It can't be possible that someone as talented in Go as you is unable to produce any other thought in your mind! And don't bother to call me again until you figured something out!"

Isumi pried the receiver out of Waya's clenched fist, before his friend destroyed the telephone of the Chinese Go institute by smashing it down on the apparatus too hard in his temper. He let the brown-haired one's hand go and gently put down the receiver.

"So…" Isumi started, after he had given the other the time for some calming breaths. "I didn't catch everything. Why were you shouting at Shindou again?"

"He's so stupid!" Waya shouted in exasperation, so loud that several people looked over.

"You never minded before," Isumi dryly told him. "What's the matter now?"

Isumi watched him pacing in the small place in front of the telephone for some time.

"I'm not Touya's nanny either!" Waya finally burst out.

Isumi crossed his arms in front of his chest and amusedly eyed the other man striding to and fro, his thick eyebrows drawn together so much they really made a line. His plastic slippers made snapping noises.

"I told Touya the pressure would be too much!" Waya almost tore at his hair in frustration.

Isumi felt the corner's of his lips twitching as he watched the agitated state of his friend. "I see you're really worried about him, Waya-onisan," he said, half-earnest, half-teasing.

Waya abruptly stopped and now stared at him with that angry, accusing expression he had before directed at the non-present Touya. As if it were a huge lapse, "I can't help feeling responsible for him!"

All the way through his game, Hikaru's eyes kept being drawn to where Touya sat. He barely paid attention to what he played, and even though his opponent was a rather untalented sho-dan, Hikaru won by only half a moku.

Touya had already left, when Hikaru noted his result. He couldn't hold back an apprehensive frown at the signs on the sheet.

He lost again.

Something was really wrong with his rival. Probably Waya was right and he should try to help him? But with what…and how… and when? They wouldn't meet at the Go salon for … well, they hadn't decided a next meeting yet.

On his way out, he surprisingly saw a familiar figure with long, black hair, bound back, and a dark suit, despite the heat of an early September day, not far ahead of him.

Hesitantly he watched his silhouette for a moment. Then he shrugged. He had no clue what to say or to do, but anyway, he ran to catch up.

"Touya!"

The other pro looked at him haltingly. "Shindou?"

"Do you want to meet at the Go salon tomorrow?" Hikaru was a bit out of breath, but caught himself quickly.

Touya tried to smile, but failed. He nodded tiredly, "Okay. I'll be there at five."

Before they could part again, Hikaru asked. "Are you all right?"

"Only because I lost a game I shouldn't have lost?"

Hikaru shrugged, uncomfortable. "You're doing a great deal of losing, lately."

"I noticed."

Hikaru frowned. "Yeah, you would," the sarcasm was lost to him, "But what's wrong with you? You look tired."

Hikaru only later understood that it didn't always help being direct with Touya, because his rival continued his path to the metro station.

"I don't want to bother you with my problems."

Hikaru caught up with him, not understanding, "But I'm even asking you to bother me!"

"I'll be in the Go salon tomorrow and on Saturday," Touya proposed in a neutral voice.

Hikaru confusedly looked at him, "Yeah." His Go partner's evasiveness left him too perplexed to pry further or even to answer more.

Touya must have misinterpreted his bemused look, because he said, "Don't worry, I won't stop playing."

Even in the heat of the day, Hikaru felt as if someone had just drained an entire river of ice-cold water over his head.

Akira would have kicked himself on the butt, had he been able to do so, so instead he kicked a can lying on the floor of the metro station. He hated himself for how he reacted to Shindou. His rival, with that naïve look on his face, had probably only meant well. White pain exploded his right foot. The can he had kicked wasn't really a can, but consisted of concrete and was fixed thoroughly to the floor. He yelped in surprise, hopping on one foot for a few seconds, forgetting how undignified he looked.

Deep down he even welcomed the pain, saw it as a deserved punishment for behaving so coldly and hurtful towards Shindou. Even so he couldn't help that Shindou always made him irate and say stupid things.

And he hated himself for not being able to cope with his current situation. But he would fight, wouldn't give up. Somehow he would get back into form. He didn't need anyone else.

Hikaru couldn't really ask his rival why he suddenly played as if he'd forgotten how to, could he? Touya would probably just leave the Go salon again instead of answering.

He placed another white stone.

What if Waya had been right? Hikaru wouldn't know. Apart from playing Go, Touya and he didn't know much about each other.

Don't worry, I won't stop playing. Even the memory of his rival's words still left his insides freezing.

Another set of hands passed. The stones of his current game decorated the brownish board in an especially pretty black and white pattern, like a picture of modern art.

Slowly he became aware of how Touya had probably suffered when he had announced him he wasn't interested in Go anymore. How could his at this time not-yet rival have felt? Guessing from the urgency and shock in his voice when he had sought him out at the school, probably even worse than Hikaru felt now. But with which giant self-control Touya had managed to go on playing as if nothing had ever happened?

When his opponent, a middle-aged man with shortly chopped dark brown hair and a sharp nose, placed another black stone in his territory, it slowly dawned on Hikaru that it wouldn't do admiring pretty patterns if he wanted to make it to the Gosei league.

Shit! He wished for his fan to grip.

I should have been concentrating better on the game, he realised with a sudden sense of dread.

With narrowed eyes he studied the game for many long minutes, his fists clenched. Out of an impulse he studied his opponent's face and couldn't help a derisive grin forming on his lips at the other man's expression. So confident of victory.

You think you've won already? He thought, his eyebrows wandering up his forehead in a snorty gesture. He usually wasn't all that overbearing, but this guy and Touya and his current state of mind made him angry.

In the succession of moves that followed after another long thinking time of Hikaru, he had the pleasure to see his opponents round features turn from confident to unsure to pale, to deadly white, as he realised that the tables were turning on him.

Don't worry, I won't stop playing.

Hikaru's opponent finally caught himself and resisted his strategy.

Damn Touya, go out of my thoughts!

But Touya kept losing. What could help Touya if not even his rival could incite him to do his best?

After surveying the game for ten more minutes, "I give up." He currently wasn't willing to go on fighting for the few petty points he probably would lose anyway. With pleasure he noticed that the shock at his former hands was still carved into his opponent's features. The other seemed greatly relieved at managing to win in the end, but Hikaru didn't point out that it surely wasn't due to his skill. And he surely didn't care about any after-game discussion. He said the obligatory 'Thank you', but immediately after that, without any further words, he stood up and left. Kosemura, the annoying reporter, tried to stop him and pin him with questions about his admittedly strange game, but, unimpressed, he simply sidestepped the small man to exit the room. He ignored the murmured remarks about his rudeness that followed. Why should he care? They didn't understand anything anyway. Few people knew that Touya was his rival, and even fewer knew how much he meant to him.

"Touya, do you really want to play another game?" Hikaru sighed. "You look tired."

"So what?" Touya retorted. "You look tired too."

"Because I am. But I look tired today, you since last month," Hikaru almost growled in frustration.

"It's really late already," Ichikawa-san cut in with her friendly, considerate voice. She had come to refill their cups. The three of them were the only ones left at the Go salon.

"You don't have to stay here with us, Ichikawa-san," Akira said, "I can lock the door when we leave."

"Oh, no, no," Ichikawa said indignantly, "Of course, I'll stay till the end! Besides, I love watching you two playing." She giggled, but before she returned to the counter, Hikaru caught her gaze for a moment, and there was much worry behind her carefree manner.

…

Before they parted on the way down the metro station, Hikaru held Akira back.

"Touya…"

He halted and tried to focus his sleepy eyes on that round face opposite him.

"What do you want?"

"Your parents aren't at home, neh? You could sleep over at my house, if you want to," Hikaru proposed. Probably not asking as directly would work better?

"Why would I want that?" Touya's voice was so cold and abrasive that Hikaru winced. He gritted his teeth and said, after a moment of heavy silence, "Oh, sorry for asking," his sarcasm didn't hide his anger at his rival's words. Hikaru would have preferred Touya shouting at him. With that, at least, he knew how to deal.

Akira turned away from the anger and the hurt on his rival's face. His quick retreat felt like a flight. Wasn't that what he longed for most at the moment? A friend? But only resentment remained. He couldn't bear other people's worry. And accept help, was admitting helplessness.

He had to be strong!

Hikaru looked after him, his eyes narrowed, a pained expression on his face. If it weren't for the games, he would think Touya hated him.
A/N: As always. :-) Reviews of any kind and opinion are welcome. :-)