Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Title: chiisana yasashisa wo kure
Pairing: Ogata x Akira
Rating: pg-13
Description: So, why did Ogata stay with Touya-sensei for such a long time?
Disclaimer: Hikaru no Go belongs to Obata and Hotta-sensei.
chiisana yasashisa wo kure
By Miyamoto Yui
Chapter 9 – The aura that pulled me here.
It's been an hour and a half already, but he isn't back yet.
The high wave of my new declaration crashes rapidly, dragged down by fatigue to the seafloor. Everything is happening at once with the last blow coming from myself. Guilt smears into my personal abyss, disintegrating what's left of my soul.
As much as I lamented over Sensei or slept around, I never felt a gram of remorse. But Akira is on a totally different scale, the feather definitely still bleeding from being ripped from pure skin.
I've hurt him in a way only I could.
Unwilling to move forward or back with you, it still led to the same conclusion. Where will we go from here?
Folding the newspaper, I finish breakfast without paying attention to any of the articles I'm supposedly "reading" and my taste buds are all but dead. I eat anyway, not wanting to be ungrateful after all the trouble it took to make it.
There is a knock at the door and a woman takes everything away. Before I know it, I present myself to the Go board, staring at the fabulous play that butchers me from various directions. Lifting my chin up in aggravation, I take the stones away backwards, reversing my play and editing it in my head as I go along.
All that's left is white when Akira returns.
He glances at me and though I expect him to be as frosty as he was earlier, he looks disconcerted and goes straight into the bedroom. Giving him some space, I clear away each of the white stones and squint in contemplation, but soon, I stand up to get a pen.
Without even bothering to knock, I enter the threshold to find Akira facing the window, holding onto something in between his hands. Very lost in thought, he doesn't notice me at all.
He raises his arms and the crepe paper slips off, gracefully floating down to the floor.
Somehow, that pattern looks familiar…
That sick feeling in my gut comes back, my face blanching in unison. "Oh."
This...
Why now?
With a subdued tone, he grabs onto the kimono a bit firmer. "I was so proud he finally gave this to me. The only one I really wanted out of all his battle gear, or so he called it."
An awkward sigh comes out of his mouth. "Is it a sign that I wasn't able to wear it yesterday?"
His head dips forward in disappointment.
"Akira…" I find myself saying, but I pull my hand away before touching him.
Startled, he wipes his face but doesn't turn around. When he kneels down to his open luggage, I finally notice that he's in the middle of packing.
"Aren't you just going to see Sensei? I thought I'd meet both of you there after practicing."
Akira shakes his head and folds the kimono carefully in its expensive wrapping. "I'm going home. My next bout is in a week for the Shinjin-O so I have to prepare."
"I didn't know."
"It was my plan until Father's collapse." He stands up to get his things from the bathroom while I pull a pen from my bag. I find myself unable to leave the room when he comes back out.
"Do you need something, Ogata-sensei?"
Stab. The impersonal way he says my name…
"Nothing." Reluctantly, I leave and position myself in front of the Go board, but this time with my back facing the bedroom. Dazed, I robotically pull out the white stones and write the durations using my phone timer.
Akira comes out and carries his luggage out with his messenger bag. He stops at the door to place the luggage down onto its wheels. Holding onto the knob, he doesn't turn around. His solemn voice echoes off the walls: "I won't bother you anymore."
Click.
You were never a bother. You're my place of solace.
I grab onto the sides of the board, restraining myself from wiping everything off it. Breathing heavily, I feel my eyelids burn.
And I broke it.
+/+/+/+/+/
Steeling myself through another page, this time I'm the one playing a rhythm game with the stones: Up, down, left, right. Venting with every placement, I push further into his territory until a gust of wind flips all the papers over.
I come out of my trance, stamping my hand on the stack.
"I'll make the notes later." Taking a picture of the board, I finally notice the time. "11:03."
Getting up and stretching, I slowly make my way to the bedroom to get my jacket and wallet when I notice that kimono sitting innocently on his futon, neat as it could be.
Why would you leave this with me?
Piqued, I bend over and take it into my hands. Raising it to eye-level, it unfolds itself as I walk towards the window, but there's a small note in between the folds and it falls to the tatami. I ignore it, appreciating how well-preserved the kimono is. The smooth stitching tickles my fingertips and it still catches the light, embedding itself within the fabric.
I never thought I'd touch this again.
Getting a hanger from the closet, I open the curtains all the way so that I can hang the kimono against the window, admiring how Sensei wore it and imagining how Akira would look in it.
After a few minutes, I pick up the note, eyeing Akira's small, line-perfect characters. Smiling dimly, I recall all the scribbles and drawings he used to give me.
"To Ogata-sensei,
I saw a recording of when Father wore this. He won his 3rd title with it, but never wore it again. Out of all his kimono, this was his favorite so I really wanted it.
But I'll leave it with you for now. I'll take it back when I win our next official match.
From Akira"
Turning around, once more my index finger reaches out to stroke the fabric arm. "His favorite?"
You really know where to hit me, and you don't even know why…
/The rain was pouring in flustering sheets so water sprinkled all over my clothes.
I wiggled my umbrella at the entrance, more annoyed than ever by the weather and the fact that my mother forced me to run an errand inside Tokashimaya Department Store in Nihombashi. I was to pick up a custom pants suit she'd ordered.
The fact that I had to come after summer school was no fun at all. Troublesome as it was, I ended up changing clothes at home anyway so that I wouldn't stand out too much since my hair already did that for me.
On the way up the escalators, there was a special men's collection out on display. The showcased mannequin didn't interest me, but the kimono hanging two patterns away from it caught my eye. Equally spaced lines but with a splash of subtle light green almost fading into white. It was a tint I'd never seen before. In fact, anywhere. But I had no occasion nor any interest in wearing such things so I didn't dwell on it.
But on the way down fifteen minutes later, I found myself looking over again. Shaking my head, I left, running up Sakura Dori to get to Tokyo Station instead of using the subway connected below. I could have used a taxi, but I never felt the need to rush to my house.
I went to Kouichi's instead. He, like me, didn't see his parents too much. His mother came home late every evening.
We hung out, but these days, he was playing videogames while I took over half of his room to play Go. For some reason, he didn't mind storing the foldable table in his closet for my use. I would study and in exchange, I cooked since he didn't know how to make anything except spaghetti. And then when Mrs. Seki arrived home, I'd say hi and go home.
Three days later, my mind was still thinking about it. So I went back to the department store despite the rain pouring worse than before.
As attractive as it was, the summer kimono still hung there unadored.
A kind attendant came to help me. She brought me over to one corner to hang it so that I would be able to walk around it. At first, it looked ordinary, but at full inspection, it was a superb balance of old and new, stylish but not gaudy. Overall a gradient lighter than bamboo, the even white stripes made a wonderful complement. But I leaned in closer to see that these were not straight at all, but small hints of bamboo stalk outlines.
It was beyond unique! This whole set wasn't manufactured at all, but hand-sewn.
Over the left shoulder, there were ten even vertical stripes while on the right shoulder, thinner stripes edged towards pale blue-ish diamonds. The sleeves, while even of course in length, had three sets of lines on the end of the shoulder, the elbow and cuff, both have contrasting line thickness. If the elbow had two centimeter white lines, then the other elbow was one centimeter.
The design was simply amazing: Provocative yet elegant in all the right ways.
Without asking, I touched it, gently scratching the surface with my nails. It bristled wonderfully underneath my fingertips until I found myself grasping onto the material, feeling its threads scratch against my palm.
No wonder. It's made of hemp cloth. You rarely see that these days.
"You really like this one," the sales lady observed aloud.
That's not quite it…
"I'll take it." Impulsively, it came out of my lips before the whole transaction cleared itself into my brain.
"Would you like to try it on?"
I pulled it up before me and under the lamps, the cross hatching irresistibly sparkled, almost translucent in its own luminescence. I knew why it called out to me…
"No, this is the right size."
It's perfect.
As she was wrapping it after I'd paid, I was about to ask about mailing it. "May I-"
"Yes Sir?"
"No, never mind."
I walked over to Maruzin to pick up cardstock to go along with it. Later on that day, I ended up sending it without a return address and a note done with a felt tip pen. It simply said:
"To Touya Kouyo-san,
For being an inspiration."
Would it even reach him since I sent it to the Institute? I figured it would be handled like flowers given for celebratory reasons, a trinket in the mound of plenty. After all the hype he brought to the game, his popularity soared. In fact, he was in the process of obtaining his 2nd title while I was an Insei walking up the unsteady steps towards him.
I looked down at the pavement with hundreds of people rushing around me into the Yaesu Central Entrance of Tokyo Station while thinking of the long string of opponents I still had to conquer.
Why couldn't I get to him any faster?/
When I'm about to put the note away, I find two words written on the back: "I'm sorry."
Why are you the one apologizing, Akira?
Holding the note against my forehead, it tears me to shreds.
I've never hated myself so much as I do now. His pride was one thing, but his heart was completely another. In one selfish move, I've damaged both.
What the hell have I done?
Stepping away from the kimono, I put the note into my jacket pocket and head out to visit Sensei.
+/+/+/+/+/
When I arrive at the hospital, Mrs. Touya is out.
"I told Akiko-san to enjoy a little of the atmosphere here. She'll be back soon. I've been getting visitors since this morning. It's a wonder you didn't meet anyone on the way here."
"I'm sorry Sensei. I know I should have come earlier, but I needed to take care of some things."
As I sit in the chair closest to him, Sensei folds his hands. "Akira didn't look so well today."
That is definitely my fault.
"He says he played you, but lost once more."
Which 'game' is he referring to, Sensei?
"He must be mistaken because he matched me." I lean uncomfortably back into the chair.
Sensei's eyebrow rises slightly. "Oh?"
"Sometimes, he can be too modest."
I really want a drag of my cigarette right now…
I can't seem to meet his gaze.
"Ogata-kun, do you mind slicing some watermelon for me?" He points to the table full of presents that I glimpsed at just a few seconds earlier.
I get up and gesture to the multiple gift baskets trying to make light of the situation. "From which exactly…?"
"Any."
Taking the square-shaped one out of its plastic, I wash it in the bathroom along with the knife Mrs. Touya left. Apparently, he'd been eating the fruit little by little.
"Thank you," he says when I hand him a slice. "Wouldn't you like some?"
"No thank you."
"I recall that these and mangoes are your favorites."
Smiling to myself, I nod a bit. "Yes, but I ate a lot this morning."
He eats quietly as I wait for him to address me. I have no idea what to talk about though. All the while, the cicadas outside play their symphonies with more gusto, matching the heat of the day.
After finishing, I hand him a wet tissue to clean his hands. "Bring over that white board over there."
"Shouldn't you-"
"Just bring it," he orders with finality.
Whenever he gives that tone, there's no point in protesting.
Sensei draws lines in with a black dry erase marker. He chooses the blue marker (which is to be white) and hands over the black one to me. Somehow on this makeshift board, we have a match.
We don't converse for a while, the markers squeaking in place of dialogue.
"You too are distracted," he comments on move 42 while making a mark.
So you did play with Akira before he left. I'm glad.
I say nothing. Excuses are wasted on this man. He'll never accept them.
"Whatever battle it is, we have to pretend we will win it…" He watches my eyes, but his words hit directly into my chest. "Play it until we know there's no more."
These were his exact words from our first time battling one another.
"You tell me that…" I place a black dot to the left of his last move.
It's been so long, but I instinctively knew when I'd lost: The moment you crossed that street in Ichigaya.
"…but I knew the result no matter how much I fought."
"You gave up since the beginning?" Sensei casually dots in his next move.
Instead of attacking, I freeze and put my marker down impassively. Averting away from him, I find myself watching the border that connects the white wall and the honey-tiled floor. "Why did I ever attempt this game?"
"Ogata-kun…"
Ptack. He caps his marker and puts it down on top of the board, placing them on the small stand between us. Reaching out, he also leans over to take the black marker from my hand.
"Akira-kun has been asking me why I play. I honestly don't know why he's asking me this now."
"Isn't he grown up enough to question you?"
I'm not ready. Last night proved that.
With my left hand over my right one, I look down into my lap. I suddenly think of when Sensei tested me, the first time we officially 'met' as competitors. I trembled so much inside that I thought I'd cry from one of the happiest moments in my life. But being unemotional, outside I appeared to be a rock, hard and distant. My feelings and facial expression were very disconnected. However, our match proved otherwise.
"Yes, of course…" A tinge of uncertainty stains my words. "But he's been asking me ever since we've arrived here. Haven't we been together long enough that the both of you don't have to ask me these questions?"
A flash of the kimono in the room comes to mind.
Looking from side to side in anguish, I shake my head. "I'm sorry, Sensei. I don't mean to be rude, especially when you don't need this nonsense from me."
But Sensei doesn't get mad or tell me to stop. It's so unlike him not to insist playing a game I've interrupted, let alone speak my mind that I'm confused all over again.
Whether or not I like it, I can't help but be open to you.
He pats my shoulder and I turn to look at him as he tells me, "Isn't it time Akira should hear your reply now that he can understand?"
But what else can I tell him? I'm not ready to lose you. Nor him on either side of the board we're playing on.
"Have you really analyzed how you play?" Sensei takes his hand away and folds it once more onto his lap.
Why is he asking this all of a sudden?
"Hmm? Strange, I just watched Akira-kun play past me against current me." I sigh.
How like the both of you to pit me against myself.
"I never revealed to him how we played though from time to time, I've discussed with you about how he plays. Akira made his own conclusions. But I'm surprised that you haven't truly studied the way you are playing now."
I didn't think I had to since we dissected everything in our group discussions. Privately, I overanalyzed until I'd put all my mistakes to death. Or so I thought…?
For a split-second, the ends of Sensei's lips curve upward. He looks past me and through the sliding windows until he dozes off, not dismissing me as he usually would.
You always let me do as I please despite your strictness. Maybe that's why the others were envious as well…
In your own way, you spoiled me.
No one steps through the closed door as I look up to the ceiling. As I lower my gaze, I glance towards my left, viewing Sensei's face without scrutiny. I've watched the lines that came to that chiseled face, but I was there from the start. I guess I still see him that way.
The aura that pulled me here remains unbreakable.
/"So you love 'Go' more."/
Thank you for giving me this space, Sensei. For being able to express myself on the board. And right now, I can just say what I want without interruption, without your reactions to stop me.
"I've failed you, haven't I?"
It's uncharacteristic of me to admit my weakness so blatantly. After all these years, it's not like my load lightened, right? You were one of the few consistent things in my life. That illusion of "home", I found it with you, your wife, and your son, didn't you know that?
But did you ever think of why I never left you? Of course not. Ever the diligent student, I'm sure deviating from the script would be presumptuous.
The numerous tournaments. The drawn-out title matches. The insurmountable stacks of books I read. That remarkable kissaten where I couldn't deduce what tea you drank.
Why did you cross my path with that damn gorgeous kimono?! I've been hypnotized from that powerful air about you ever since.
I could have lived a boring life and followed my parents' footsteps with their ostentatious tastes and civil duties, but I looked across the street and found you.
And you never figured it out. You never looked in my direction except on that board. Not that I expected you to, but there are times I wondered why I never made a greater impression on you.
But if I must speak the truth now that I've spilled it all, Sensei, not even once…
…I never regretted it.
I close my eyes painfully while the knuckles on my folded hands are all turning white.
In Akira's case though, I fucked everything up…
And it's more torturous than all the years of following you.
Ridiculous as it may be, I still can't give him up.
In between wind blowing in the cicadas' songs along with the thrum of vehicles dropping people off, and the shuffling steps and far off groans outside the door, I discover some sense of mental clarity.
Well, I'm going now so you can rest. Thanks for listening.
Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes to find Sensei watching me.
"I thought you were already sleeping." I clear my throat.
"Before you go..." He gets the board and hands it over to me. "When you answer him, play as me on this."
My jaw drops as I take the whiteboard.
"Don't worry. We'll see you in Tokyo." He gives me a hard stare before closing his eyes, finally falling asleep.
"Thank you, Sensei." Bowing my head, I leave the room, closing the door hushedly after me.
That afternoon, I rush over to the ryokan, pack my things and head to the station to change my Shinkansen tickets to leave on the next express train.
After calling Mrs. Touya, I head over to my seat and study this new game within my grasp: Liberties left to me from the new life and death problem Sensei presented to me.
Tsuzuku… / To be continued…
Author's note: This chapter took on a lot more layers than I'd planned, but from the beginning of this fic, I'd wanted a flashback that referenced the kimono that Ogata-sensei bought but never wore.
There were so many moments I found myself tearing up because there are more facets behind Akira's personality shifting through Ogata-sensei's eyes and Ogata-sensei is slowly understanding how deeply Akira is to the existence of 'himself'.
I don't know why, but every time I finish a chapter for this fic, I feel relieved and accomplished. :)
Love,
Yui
8/16/2020 1:31:13 PM – Los Angeles
8/17/2020 5:31:13 AM – Tokyo
