Touya Akira
Loss

"Icchan, who was that boy?" Hirose rubbed his balding head, his expression one of bafflement. "The one with the bleached-blonde hair."

"Who?" Ichikawa was busy clearing out a clutter of papers behind the counter. How had it all piled up like this? She paused to think for a moment, before glancing at the sign-in sheet and remembered, "Oh. His name was Shindou Hikaru. Why?"

Hirose shook his head. "I offered to play against him, and asked him how strong he was, and he said 'I think I'm pretty strong.' Kitajima-san overheard then, and got interested, so I let him play instead. The boy refused a handicap, so they played an even game. And..."

Ichikawa looked up from her housekeeping, frowning. "And what? Did Kitajima-san go too hard on him?"

"No, no." Hirose shook his head. "Kitajima-san played all out, but the boy won."

"What?"

"Is he an insei, maybe?" Hirose asked, looking quizzically at the shocked expression on Ichikawa's face.

"No. No way." Ichikawa glanced over to the gathering around Kitajima-san, all the players discussing the game in tones of surprise. She walked around the counter and over to them. "Kitajima-san! What happened?"

Kitajima shook his head as well. "That strength..." he murmured. "Icchan, who is that boy?"

"I don't know! He..." Ichikawa swallowed. This was crazy. "He said he's never played a game before today!"

Gasps and shocked murmurs rippled through the gathered crowd.

"Never played before?"

"Impossible. He must be lying."

"This boy..."

"He beat Kitajima-san!"

"...who is he?"

"That's enough!" Kitajima snapped, finally becoming more annoyed than surprised at his own loss. "If this is his real strength, then sooner or later he's going to go pro. We'll find out about him then, if that's the case."

---

"Hikaru..."

"What, Sai? I'm trying to do my English homework." Hikaru glared at the sheet of paper before him, but the detested combinations of letters refused to make sense to him.

The ghost's expression was one of hurt, but he opened his fan, hiding behind it as he said in a small voice, "I was just wondering if...we could play go this week? You promised last week, but then you went on a picnic with your family, so..."

Hikaru sighed, setting down his pencil. "We've already been to all the go salons nearby," he complained. "And the people there all recognize me now because you keep beating everyone. I don't want to go back there. The old guys are creepy."

Sai hid his disappointment behind a flutter of his fan. "But...couldn't we go somewhere new?"

"Sai, I can't keep this up forever! There aren't that many go salons within a reasonable distance. How long are you planning on playing go?"

How long? How did one measure time? He wanted to play go as long as the skies continued to scatter her ever-white snowflakes, as long as the red maple leaves danced among the wind with every coming autumn. Sai never wanted to leave this game he loved, this eternity within the maze of nineteen by nineteen lines, the ever-changing tales sketched out with stones of black and white.

Fujiwara no Sai wanted to play go forever.

But Hikaru couldn't understand that. Though Sai longed to show him the beauty in go, and tried, the young boy just wasn't interested.

"Can we play go sometime this week?" he begged. "Please, Hikaru? Or I can teach you how to play, and we could get a goban for your room, and then you wouldn't have to keep running around anymore."

"Play? Me?" Hikaru laughed, brushing it off. "I don't want to play go." He yawned, and glanced at the clock, then at Sai. "It's getting late. I'll try to find someplace to go tomorrow, okay?"

Sai nodded, smiling, all other sad thoughts swept away by that one promise. "Yes! Thank you, Hikaru."

---

Hikaru paused, detaching himself from the crowd of students pushing their way out of the classroom. He saw Akari start to follow him, but quickly motioned for her to wait outside. He had to talk to their science teacher for a minute.

"Kumako-sensei?"

"Hmm?" Kumako paused in sorting through a stack of homework papers, peering curiously at Hikaru from behind her glasses. "Yes, Shindou-kun. Do you need something?"

"Um, I was wondering...since I heard you know about go..." Well, this was definitely going to sound random. But then, Hikaru glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw a certain violet-haired figure standing beside him, eyes slightly unfocused, probably thinking about go again. "There are professional go players, right?"

"Yes, there are." She smiled, and added, a bit curiously, "I didn't know you were interested in go, Shindou-kun. Do you play?"

"Uh...yeah. Sure." Hikaru glanced at Sai again. Well, not really, but I've got a centuries old ghost bugging me about it day in and day out... "So, what do go professionals do anyway? Do they just play games all day?"

"Well, pros also play at exhibitions and other events, and they also play in dan matches and league matches to compete for titles and rankings among themselves."

"So they're good?"

She laughed. "Yes, Shindou-kun. They're very good. That's why they're pros."

"How do you become a pro?"

The science teacher stared at him for a moment, then seemed to catch herself. "Well...I think there's a pro exam every year, during the summer," she replied. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing. Just curious. Thanks, sensei, see you tomorrow!"

---

"Become a pro?" Sai asked. His violet eyes were shining with surprise. But then, a moment of hesitation came over him, "Hikaru, what made you decide so suddenly?"

"What? Don't you want me to go pro so you can play against all the really strong go players?" Hikaru tapped his pencil against his chin, idly ignoring the math homework laid out before him. He leaned back in the chair, tossing a wisp of blonde hair out of his eyes as he regarded his ghostly companion. "Don't worry, I'm not just going to pick this up and drop it again like I don't care -- I'll stick with being pro, for as long as you're here...which is probably forever, but anyway. Hey, you okay?"

Sai was hiding behind his fan again, but this time the tears were of joy. Without warning, he enveloped Hikaru in a tight embrace, happiness overflowing like an excited child. "Oh, thank you, Hikaru, thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

"Okay, okay! Stop it already!"

"Hikaru, you are truly a kindhearted child!" Sai was beaming for joy. "And believe me, you will not regret this! I know that in time you'll come to see the beauty in go, and I just know that you will love it as I do. The intricate patterns, each and every stone laid down with purpose and resolve, reflecting the players' very souls..."

Hikaru, now almost by habit, tuned out Sai as he dissolved into a full-blown speech about the virtues of go. He poked his math homework, still unable to concentrate on it, and his eyes drifted over to the soccer magazine laid out at the side of his desk instead.

There was an almost chagrined look in his eyes. It had been his lifelong dream, however short that might have been, to become a professional soccer player. Ever since the first time he extended a foot to kick that black and white ball, Hikaru had loved the game as nothing else. But still, he supposed that really, he hadn't been very serious about it after all. Not when compared to Sai's blatant and overwhelming love for his chosen dedication.

In his heart, Hikaru had always known that he would never be able to become a successful soccer star. It had been a dream -- a very nice dream -- but it wasn't going to come true. Hikaru had wondered, sometimes, lying in bed at night, what he would do to fulfill the role of his parents' only child; how would he support them in their old age? How would he face them, as a failure in academics and a burn-out in sports?

Becoming a pro for Sai wasn't running away, not in Hikaru's mind. It was his way of giving up his own desires for those around him, the ones he loved. Sai, of course, but also his mother, his father, and grandpa. For Sai, going pro would mean a lifetime of opportunities to play the present world's greatest players. For his family, it would mean some kind of security in finances, and also joy for his mother, because her son had made something of himself in the world.

And maybe, just maybe, his father would come home more often, now that he had a reason to be proud of his only son...

But it was best not to wish too much, Hikaru supposed.

He picked up the soccer magazine and placed it carefully in the bottom drawer of his desk.

---

"One win, two losses?"

Fuku rubbed his head absentmindedly. "Yeah... I lost to this kid, he's around our age but he's really strong. Stronger than you, and probably all the other insei."

Waya was unimpressed. "You probably just had an off day."

"No, I mean it..."

"Go study some more."

"Even if I study for years, I still don't think I could beat him."

Waya smacked him, but gently. "Idiot. Don't be depressed just because you lost a game in the qualifying round! Just win the next two games; you know you can do it."

"...Yeah."

There was a silence.

"Hey, Waya?"

"Yeah?"

"What I said before, about that kid being really strong..."

Waya gave a loud sigh. "Stop overreacting already. You know what, next month we should get everyone together and study with each other. Trust me, if there really were some kid who's that good, we would have heard of him. Random geniuses don't just pop up out of the ground, you know."

Fuku looked like he wanted to say something more, but then he shrugged slightly to himself and gave a small smile. "Yeah. That sounds like a good plan."

Waya didn't seem to be in the mood for listening; he thought Fuku was exaggerating. But it was the truth, only Fuku wasn't sure how his friend would react if he heard it -- that Fuku knew he wasn't going to pass this year, because in Fuku's mind, one of the spaces was already taken.

Shindou Hikaru, his third opponent in the preliminary qualifying round, was going to pass.

That left only two spaces. There never had been enough for everyone who took the exam, but now...

Well, it was just life, he supposed.

- - -

Sai played black that day, but even if he had played white, Sai knew that Waya Yoshitaka would not have been able to capture the game. The boy was good, but not good enough. Not yet. There would be a time for him to shine, Sai could tell, but that time was not now.

Waya bowed his head over the goban. "I have nothing."

Hikaru returned the bow, as was only proper. "Thank you for the game." Hikaru was learning the rules of this game as well, even as he watched while Sai played. Little by little, but surely, steadily. This was the only way to progress, after all, step by step.

It was a ladder they all had to climb, with each rung being greater opponents, each step taken only with study and losses and more studying until, finally, victory was within reach.

Sai bowed to his opponent as well, though he knew Waya could not see him.

"Thank you for the game," he whispered.

- - -

"Don't you even think about going easy on me."

Waya's tone was light, and the words were delivered in a joking manner -- but Isumi could see the determination in his eyes. He put on a smile, continuing their little charade as they entered the examination room together.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Waya," he replied.

The minutes seemed to pass in a blur as they settled before their goban, their battleground for today. Unspoken, they both reached into their respective goke at the same time; choose for color now and save time later.

Waya placed two black pieces on the board; Isumi counted out five rows of white stones, plus one more. They switched colors.

"Please begin your games," Shinoda-sensei intoned.

Isumi nearly jumped in surprise. Where had the last fives minutes gone?

"Onegaishimasu," he murmured, and heard the traditional greeting being echoed all around the room.

The games began.

This wasn't a game he could afford to take lightly. The pro exam was nearing its final stages, and a loss now could mean failure. Waya was not someone he could win easily against, and also...

If Waya lost this game, he would most likely be out of the running. The same could be said for himself. The top records were close this year.

Concentrate.

His eyes focused on the go board, the array of black and white stretching before his vision, territories and half-sketched claims, battles won and lost and yet to be fought... How would this all end?

He assessed his options: either secure his claim to the left side of the board, or cut Waya's territory on the right side. Waya should have defended better there, and cut the chances of his loss. It wouldn't be fair to take advantage of that blunder, a small voice whispered in his mind...

"Don't you even think about going easy on me."

But one of them was going to have to lose, one way or another.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Isumi picked up a black stone...and attacked the right side territory.

There were no friends when it came down to the game, only opponents.

Still, that knowledge did little to console him as Waya bowed to him, conceding his loss. "I have nothing."

"Thank you for the game."

There was nothing more to be said. He looked away from Waya and went to mark his win.

- - -

Hon'inbo Shuusaku reborn.

That was the catch-phrase that the reporters at Weekly Go had thought up to describe Shindou Hikaru, the boy who had taken and surpassed all others in this year's pro exam. He was talented, they said in awe. He was frightening. He was a miracle.

He was hope.

And to think that less than a month ago, all the same reporters had been sighing about how Japan was fast losing to China and Korea in the world of go.

Maybe in another month, all this fuss will have died down and faded away to nothing.

Or maybe not.

Ogata tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the traffic light to change. Running into Amano at the Institute this morning certainly had been interesting. The first thing the man had asked him was, "Ogata-san, have you heard about the results of this year's pro exam, yet?"

He had. The top three were Shindou Hikaru, Isumi Shinichirou, and Kadowaki Tatsuhiko. Isumi and Kadowaki had been known, and expected to pass. Shindou, however, had been an unknown variable.

Amano said that Shindou had surpassed all of his opponents.

"I heard from Shinoda-sensei," Amano had said, "that Shindou is incredible. He thinks that the boy will change the Japanese go for good, and that the current pros had better watch out."

Then let him change the world, Ogata thought, as the traffic light finally turned green. The same old geezers had monopolized their titles for long enough. It was time for a new generation wash away the old.

He hadn't been able to take the Hon'inbo title from Kuwabara this time around, but come next year, that relic was going to resign from his throne.

Count on it, old man.

Another chapter! ...yeah, it was pretty lame. Off to work on Tsutsui's AU piece.