Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Title: chiisana yasashisa wo kure
Pairing: Ogata + Akira
Rating: pg-13
Description: So, why did Ogata stay with Touya-sensei for such a long time?
Disclaimer: Kouichi is mine, but all of Hikaru no Go belongs to Obata and Hotta-sensei.
chiisana yasashisa wo kure
By Miyamoto Yui
Chapter 3 – No doubt about it.
/"Figures. I knew they wouldn't call."
The living room answering machine wasn't drowning in hostile warnings, the light listless from unuse.
Being a rich brat, my mother was confounded by my sudden need for more study time; my father, for not receiving any calls from school to interrupt his meetings. I got good grades when I felt like it and with them being school patrons, no one opposed me except with the veneer of punishment called "Detention". I should've been scolded for cutting classes or my midnight convenience store runs, but they just shrugged their shoulders. After all, my existence was an afterthought in theirs.
Being a perpetual inconvenience, they simply didn't have time for me.
Kouichi became used to my "appointments" and the others heard about a date or other. My friends were more than astounded, thinking what kind of bombshell tamed me enough that my days of delinquency became playful lies? (The assumption of "woman" was misleadingly helpful in my camouflage even though "hot" was the total truth.)
By summer school (due to detention and attendance, not grades), of course I passed by the café where he played on my route, but afterwards, I'd head to different libraries to read everything I could about Go. I'd read literature, poetry and memoirs but Go was totally foreign to me. I had no idea how to approach the subject. Over a few weeks, I temporarily gave up on library books (I'd go back a few years later) and needed new ones to footnote on the margins.
As I scanned the bookstores within the boundaries of the Yamanote Line, I kept imagining what he was holding the first I spotted him.
What was he reading anyway? Wasn't there some fetching deep red leather cover or other?
Standing in front a wall of beginner play guides, I leafed through one book. My eyes glazed over a page explaining "Atari", but my mind kept wandering.
Should I attempt to see him again? The first experience already burned me, yet here I was again…
"You're an idiot," I mumbled to my reflection the very next day in another unrecognizable outfit suggested by Preppy Chip Chic magazine: Cream slacks with a short-sleeve, teal and ivory rugby shirt complete with white leather shoes.
In the same seat behind him as last time, my books and Shibori splayed out all over the table. Reading and taking notes almost diligently to a fault, I kept lamenting, wanting to kick myself.
Why couldn't it have been a woman? At least I could justify-
My mind scraped itself clean the moment he crossed the street.
Time temporarily slipped into slow motion, a silent movie playing before my eyes: His short hair flipped in the wind. Stepping a few feet away with only the café's gate between us, he shook his head from side to side, pushing his bangs behind his ear beautifully.
His yukata, thinner than the kimono, brought out his bodyline and as if knowing this, the wind played around him, having so much fun emphasizing the angles of his body. Seducing without meaning to (the worst kind of flirt if you ask me), he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead all the way down to his neck.
My spoon fell into my parfait glass. Instantly, I was jealous of everyone who saw him.
Squirming more than ever, I struggled against staring as he sat down. Nor could I hide my gawking or incinerated cheeks even if my life depended on it. Summer suddenly shot itself into my veins instead of just being a passing calendar date marking a season.
He dipped his head as he talked with the waitress. From his profile with his eyelid lowered halfway, I knew she'd complimented him.
But the dizzying euphoria soon gave way to a finishing blow with no reprieve.
A few minutes later, an equally gorgeous woman appeared in a dark purple, black, and white vertically-lined yukata. Each color with their own thickness gave this simple design its own flair, a mix of Taisho and modern. Even her wooden geta had bells on the bottom, a rarity in itself. Her bun was full of twists and pinned with small seashells.
I held my breath as both my brain and heart broke in one cleanly executed slice by Fate.
Of course he had someone. What made me think I had any chance of becoming special to him?
I'm a boy. In middle school.
From flying on clouds for these past few months, the plunge back to reality hit hard. I found myself standing up and gathering my things with quivering hands and my face defaulted to its usual offense: A Cheshire grin.
When she started giggling next to him, the invisible thrust dug deeper into my chest.
That was my cue, wasn't it?
He cleared his throat and smiled quietly at her.
Give me up.
I put everything into my bag as calmly I could, however my smooth exit failed miserably. Tripping on one of the legs, one chair toppled another one down so they both clattered loudly to the ground. Being the gentleman he was, the man stood up to help me as I fumbled.
While carefully studying his handsome visage, we both put the chairs back to their original positions. I gulped at being able to finally see the object of my affections up close.
Damn it, I really...
My face was draining itself dry, becoming paler with every passing millisecond between us.
"Thank you," I managed to utter, covering my mouth right after.
"Be careful next time," the deep voice gently replied. He nodded his head and went back to his companion as I somehow made my way to the front counter to pay and escaped before I blinked.
Weaving through crowds, I didn't hear a damn thing but my heart pounded itself past my ribcage. Desperately, I just needed to get to the next alleyway and away from people. Clenching my jaws, I turned at the corner and sighed loudly while pushing my back against a cement building. When I blinked, tears spilled down my face.
"Be careful next time…" his voice repeated in my head.
But I knew there wouldn't be. He never came back to that café after that./
+/+/+/+/+/
/I'd never been denied what I've wanted. And it was more than a shock to my system.
It finally hit me that I had nothing. Absolutely. Fucking. Nothing.
For the next few days, I stared out the window with my right cheek leaning on my fist out of boredom. As the teacher lectured (yeah, I still went to school because staying at my house was pointless), his buzzing voice made no dent into the void inside my mind. I sighed with Shibori safely tucked into my backpack. I just couldn't tear, throw, or leave the notebook even though it reminded me of him.
I was really pathetic…
Pwshht! Pwshht pwshht pwshhtpwshht!
"What the hell, Kouichi?" I whispered as I turned around. "Stop throwing paper balls at me."
He pointed at them on the tile floor.
"Che." I rolled my eyes and leaned over to pick up the five pieces of paper on the floor. I read each one: "Let's" "go" "to" "a" "game" "center".
He really knew how to annoy me.
"Ogata! Seki!" the teacher yelled to shut us up.
We ended up going to Shinjuku and played by the East exit. He didn't say anything for the first hour of Ping, Galega, Centopede, and Spice Invaders so while putting money into one of the pinball machines, he leaned on the one next to mine. Glancing at me and at the ball flying around, I shook my head. "Stop watching me or play another game."
"She dumped you, didn't she?"
I didn't say anything, but the wasted ball ran smack down the middle where I couldn't hit it.
"We've been together since kindergarten. And nothing ever fazes you. I know…" He tapped on the glass. "…this chick was the real deal."
I clicked my tongue as my fingers pressed on the flippers even faster. Three extra balls floated around.
"So what?"
"Are you going to fight to get her back?"
I gave a wry smile. "Found out she wasn't available."
My fingers were cramping up from pressing on the buttons too hard.
"Worse than I thought."
"Frankly, I don't care what you 'thought'."
"Game over," the machine flashed back at me.
Kouichi and I walked down the spiral stairs, but he patted my shoulder on the way down. I stopped one step lower than him so that he couldn't see my expression. "Thanks for noticing, Kou."
He messed with my hair and I adjusted my glasses.
We walked down and left before we were asked to since it was almost 6pm and we were under 18. Just as we were about to cross the street back to Shinjuku station, I turned to find a newsflash on Studio Ulta's widescreen. It was him! He was facing an opponent across a Go board with the headline underneath: Youngest Title Holder!
I stood there with my mouth gaped open. I'd finally gotten his name: Touya Kouyo.
"Come on, let's go. What are you staring at?" Kouichi asked as his eyes followed my line of vision.
Whatever it was, the feeling was too stubborn for my own sake and sanity. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes as the crowds walked around us. "I'm going to win against that man one day and then he'll recognize me."
"Seiji?"
Determined, I walked to Kinoki Bookstore to buy as many Go books as I could carry./
At that moment, the shinkansen's scrolling information screen announced about our match. I got up to change trains at Okayama.
+/+/+/+/+/
"Most Prestigious Go Player Holds Last Official Match."
I squint while reading the headline one more time. Sensei's picture looks back at me, but it finally hits me how far Go's gone to get the front page of a sports section. Glancing over all the papers on the rack, I buy them all off the newsstand and take my things to stand in line for the Yakumo Express.
Holding all the other newspapers under my arm, I start reading the article. By the time I sit down in my reserved seat, I realize they are all asking the same question I've been confused over since your invitation:
Why did you choose me as your last opponent?
Over and over, they repeated politely why was his final match (in public was what he told me) with me. Even though most of the title holders were invited, they were not the main event. Not even the most anticipated and logical one: Akira, his own son.
I sigh while folding the newspapers and place them in the net in front of me. Crossing my arms, I look down into my lap.
I still don't know what you're expecting out of me.
Every game we play is never a continuation of the last. Of course it's a new game, but I yearn and dread it all the same. Even though you act calm, blazes hide inside your fingertips, ready to turn every single move I make into ash. Then, I don't have enough time to be confident of my move because you'll counter it in a heartbeat. Even so, my inner anguish resists being beaten into dirt.
You know all this. That's why you enjoy being several moves ahead of me. There are times I know your eyes are smiling while your fingers cut me over and over in gentle precise strokes…
/December of the year I first saw him, I rushed from the Institute after my first Insei exam match to Shinjuku. The large screen over the East exit never failed to amaze me with its timing: Touya-san's imploring gaze stared down at me. This time, the scrolling text read, "Go Prodigy Going On First International Tour." Diagonally, I gazed up at the pixelated screen and lifted my head higher, but the lights were blocking the path towards the stars. Lowering my eyes again, I clutched my bag to conquer the Go Salons of this sector./
When the train passes the city of Kurashiki, I take a nap.
+/+/+/+/+/
Opening my eyes at Matsue, I walk out of the station into the sun raging overhead. The humidity seizes me all over again that by the time I get into the first waiting taxicab on the lane, I'm already wiping my face. The driver takes my rollaway and bag and puts them into the trunk.
"Takeno Ryokan please."
It is at this time that I remember the voicemail. Listening to it as the conglomeration of buildings leads to just green all around, I shake my head. Again, Ashiwara leaves an apologetic message without presenting the matter. I guess I'll find out when I get see in the room.
The taxi stops on the road leading to Izumo Taisha, but there are no other buildings around except for the mountains. Stepping out, Takeno Ryokan takes two whole blocks in its elegance. Leave it to Sensei's aesthetic taste to be grand yet humble paradoxically. I survey the contrast of off-white screens and deeply polished wooden blocks with trees as tall as its two-story blue tiled roof.
After paying, I give a brief glance towards the path that I'd been on decades ago…and for the same person…
I can't believe I'm here again.
Checking in, the polite receptionist tells me my roommate has already arrived.
I walk up to my room on the second floor and insert my key. When I walk into the suite, the glaring white greets me, my eyes wincing at the sun bouncing off every part of the room. The open balcony shows the mountains around us, shining onto the simple, waxed coffee table with two floor seats opposite each other. The papered walls surrounding the tatami floor lead to another room on my right.
Lost in thought with the magnitude of splendor in this small space, I enter the bedroom to find Akira's naked shoulders just as he's about to pull on the white hadajuban to cover them. I open my mouth and immediately close it, standing there completely still. My brain goes numb as I hold my breath.
His head dips gracefully, the sheen of his perfect hair outshining the sun pouring from the open window. Parted in the middle, his necks peeks out as he's tying his nearly transparent hadajuban. The light passing through like a gentle curtain, it marks the outline of his whole body until the hem stops at his naked legs, his thighs perfectly toned.
In the next second of shock, I immediately lose grip of my bag and catch it before its slips from my fingers. Blinking, my immediate response is to leave, but I can't. Nothing is making sense. It doesn't matter that I'm in my 30s, unreasonably, my whole body simmers with my cheeks scorching incorrigibly like a teenager.
The small string linking my brain to my heart pulls until the threads break.
I look away.
You've grown up.
But not for long. Slowly, I turn my head but my eyes have been open the entire time. The very thing I've been avoiding for years finally slaps me across the face. So I let go of my things so that I can hold my shaking right fist, covering it with my left one to make it appear that I've folded my hands in front of me.
How much longer will I be able to hide it?
When Akira stands straight up, he finally notices me through the reflection of the mirror in front of him. Leaning his head back a bit in surprise, his eyes widen and exclaims, "Oh!"
But all the same, he flashes me that magical smile with his teeth showing. The one that instantly transforms my heart into clay.
No doubt about it: You ignite something I've lost long ago…
Turning towards me, he warmly greets, "You're finally here, Ogata-sensei."
Silently, I analyze him for one second longer…
You make my blood boil.
With experienced ease, I bow my head, always aware not to let my image slip. "Good afternoon, Akira-kun."
Tsuzuku…/To be continued…
Author's note: I know I made Kouichi, but I really like him. XD And finally, Akira makes an appearance! I cannot tell you how long I've wanted to see this scene play out. It was one of the images came to mind while thinking of ideas for this fic, but I had no idea where to place it.
In all seriousness, though it has taken me time to update, I've not forgotten this fic since April. I've been writing constantly and if not, thinking about it since I thought of those images of Akira and Ogata. I was a little stuck and then I went to talk to someone. As always, that person is helpful to say the most meaningful things with the smallest amount of words. I don't know how he does it, but I'm grateful because now the block is gone.
Truth be told, the plunge, digging through the sludge, and soaring through light and dark emotions was difficult.
Love,
Yui
8/30/2019 11:20 PM – Los Angeles
8/31/2019 3:20 PM – Tokyo
