Disclaimers: Hikaru no Go and its characters are created and/or owned by Hotta Yumi, Obata Takeshi, Shueisha, Studio Pierrot (all rights reserved). I just borrow them to provide - hopefully - a bit of free entertainment to the fans.
Warning: spoilers everywhere!
The Way of Go
by VKempf
3. His First Opponent
He was found at last, sitting by the drinks machines, idly sipping his oolong tea while far below the Chuo-ku ward was sweltering in the summer heat.
"Oh, Touya-kun! I thought you had left..."
Touya Akira raised his gaze to the middle-aged man in a grey suit who had just called him, then stood up as he recognized the supervisor.
"I was just taking a break, Ichiro-san."
"Why don't you go to the coffee-shop, Touya-kun? You know drinks are free for our special guests..."
"Well... I must have forgotten..." Akira stammered.
Actually, the young Go professional wanted some ten minutes of solitude, away from the Kansai Ki-in crowded halls. Ichiro nodded.
"You do as you like. Will you attend the closing ceremony?"
"Sure. Is it still at 7 PM?" Akira peeked at his watch. "I think I should go back soon to my shidougo clients then."
"Oh, I guess most people are about to leave now. They've mainly come to see the junior pro games this afternoon. By the way, congratulations for your victory ! You did great against our teen champion."
"Thanks," Akira bowed quickly. "Yashiro-kun did great too, it was a very interesting game."
"Indeed!" Ichiro agreed strongly. "Such thrilling battles are just so many opportunities to give rise to new vocations, especially among the youth, which is the purpose of this special Summer Igo Festival. If our hopes are fulfilled, we'll certainly renew the experience next year."
"I hope so."
"Thank you. Can we count on you then?"
"Ah... er... It's a bit early to tell..."
Ichiro laughed.
"Of course! Sorry, it's already very kind of you to come specially here in Osaka for both days."
"It's a pleasure."
"Now if you'll excuse me, I must return to my guests. See you later."
With a last nod, Ichiro turned back and walked away to the main hall downstairs. Akira quickly swallowed his tea, threw away the empty can into a bin and went back to the playing room.
Sitting behind long rows of tables, pros from Kansai or guests like Akira were playing teaching Go with random visitors. Ichiro was right: the room was not as crowded as it was an hour ago. Some of the teaching pros had already left for the day, the others had at most two persons in line. Akira returned to his seat on the far left side and apologized to his only client, an old lady who nodded with an understanding smile.
Their game was quickly over. The lady hardly listened to Akira's comments, ranting on about how pleased she was to see serious young men like him playing Go at professional level, "because you know, today's youth is so slack, and so bad-mannered too, education is not what it used to be...", so much so that Akira couldn't tell whether he was praised for teaching Go or for being young. Eventually she left with a last volley of congratulations.
Akira sighed. Nobody was waiting next in line and the closing ceremony was not to start before half an hour. Looking around, he caught sight of a short guy nearby who was staring at him intently.
"If you want a lesson, I'm free right now," Akira bade with an inviting smile.
The other, smiling back, came and sat across from him. He was a small, plump boy with a round face and short hair, the same age as Akira, maybe a little younger.
"Instead of a lesson, I'd rather play a real game..," he said, hesitantly twitching his fingers.
"As you wish. What's your level ?"
The boy scratched the back of his head.
"Er... I'd sorta... like to know. Can we nigiri ?"
Akira gave him a quizzical look.
"Why not? But we have only twenty minutes or something left, so this gonna be a quick game."
"No problem! I'm fine with speed Go!" the boy replied merrily.
Akira chuckled. As far as he knew, it would be his last game for the day, so he had nothing against a bit of fun.
"All right, nigiri then."
They both put down a handful of stones on the board.
"... eight... ten... twelve," Akira counted, deftly sliding the stones of his bunch pair after pair. The other boy had left two stones on the board, therefore he was playing black.
"Onegaishimas' !" he declared, full of spirit. Akira answered likewise, though not with the same exuberance.
The boy began on the lower right hoshi, Akira on the upper right one, and soon the hands were following one another at a fast pace, each player using fifteen seconds at most to think. After all the tension in his duel against Yashiro and the dull shidougo sessions afterwards, Akira found it really refreshing. His current opponent was playing much better than he would have thought, and with an obvious delight, as if he had been deprived of the game for too long.
Akira was taking his part of the pleasure, to the point he
deliberately ignored a mistake done by his partner, just to make the
game last a bit more, something he would usually never do even
against weaker opponents.
He didn't push it too far though: the
boy might notice and feel insulted. Besides, Akira once
underestimated a kid his age and...
But that was not going to
happen again: beads of sweat were growing fast on the shorter boy's
temples, despite the air conditioning. He kept struggling for a
while, but finally shook his head.
"Naah, it's no good! Arimasen," he moaned, dropping his last stone back into the bowl.
"Thanks for the game," Akira said - and he meant it. "Do you want to review?"
"Oh, I know where it went bad! I've totally misread the situation in the middle of the game, and played wrongly from that point," the boy lamented. "Also that tsuke there was too forceful, should have made a nobi here instead, I saw it right afterwards. Strange you didn't take advantage of it..."
Akira winced. He has noticed...
"Well... you looked so eager to play - so I was, I didn't want to end the game too soon..."
While speaking, the young pro was watching for any sign of anger on the round face, but it seemed nothing could disturb the smile plastered on it.
"Thanks, you're too kind, sensei," the boy said with a wink, and maybe a tad of irony on the title.
Akira was considering the board.
"Yes, that tsuke came too soon, and you lost ground in the middle, but the beginning was rather good. For an amateur, you're definitely no average player..."
The boy shrugged.
"Still no match to you. It's even worse than last time."
Akira gave him a curious look.
"You mean... We've already played a game before ?"
The boy grinned.
"Yup! Remember your pro exam prelims? I was your very first opponent! Hehe, unlucky me..."
"Oh." Now Akira knew why the guy looked strangely familiar. "And - sorry, you are?"
"Fukui, Fukui Yuuta! But my friends call me Fuku!" and the boy heartily offered his hand.
Akira hesitated a second, then shook it.
"Nice to meet you... again, Fukui-kun."
"Me too! Of course, no need to ask your name, Touya Akira... er... sensei?"
"Touya-kun is all right," Akira assured, while quickly checking no officials were close enough to overhear that breach in the protocol. He knew by experience some of them were even fussier about it than Kitajima-san, his most fervent supporter.
"Thanks! No wonder you don't remember me, I've never been much impressive," Fuku added. "I'm just one in the long series of people you crushed."
"Don't say that! It's been a long time, but now you've reminded me, I remember you better. You're insei at the Nihon-Ki-in, aren't you?"
The smile on the round face got sadder.
"I was," the boy replied, staring wistfully at the goban.
"Oh... You mean..."
"Yeah, I gave up," Fuku sighed.
Noticing Akira's
embarrassment, he quickly took a hold on himself and went on:
"Never
mind. I've tried, now I know I wasn't meant for a pro life. Suits
better guys like you or Yashiro. Excellent game, by the way! You two
were fighting so hard, 't'was very exciting!"
Akira smiled.
"Yes, we had a good game. I hadn't played Yashiro since the second Hokuto Cup, and his style has gained in consistency. He really has improved a lot."
"Wow, I really must wake up," a drawling voice said behind him.
Fuku hadn't seen coming the tall young man with very light blond - almost white hair, as untidy as the tie hanging loosely on a button-down purple shirt.
"What's the matter, Yashiro?" Akira asked without even turning his head.
"Hmm... I thought I was overhearing Touya 5-dan the Great commend me," Yashiro said. "Obviously I must have fallen asleep and I'm dreaming."
"I can't hear any loud snore right now, so obviously you're not," Akira retorted.
"Yeah, I understand you'd rather stay at some hotel than share my uncomfortable room," Yashiro said dryly.
"That's what I'd planned first but you insisted so much on putting me up at your place..."
"Yeah, because I owed you for last time. Sorry, I can't afford a big house with several private bedrooms, while my parents are still not eager to receive my Go acquaintances. So..."
"It's OK, Yashiro," Akira cut. He didn't want to go in
yet another row with the touchy 3-dan, especially in front of a third
watcher.
"I've already slept in tinier places, and as for
snoring room-mates, Ashiwara-san is ten times worse than you."
"Glad to know that. If you had lost today, I wouldn't have you say I didn't let you get your sleep."
"I'd never use so lame an excuse, had your unlikely supposition become reality."
"Unlikely, eh? So I've also dreamed that sweat drop during the double ko battle?"
"You sure have a talent for creating tricky situations. But I've never doubted the outcome."
Yashiro took a chair and sat astride it, his elbows on the back and a forefinger threateningly pointing to an impassive Akira.
"One day you'll wish you had more doubts... when I wipe your moyo and that smug look on your face off in the same time!" he snarled.
Akira, who was putting back his stones in the bowl, stopped for a while.
"Hmm... I've already heard something like that before..." he said, pretending to muse over the matter. "Oh yes: that's more or less what Shindo tells me every week. He's been saying that for years now."
Yashiro was boiling, but before he could spit his rage, Fuku burst out laughing:
"Hahaha, yeah, that's the kind of thing Shindo would say, for sure!"
Yashiro looked curiously at him.
"You know Shindo?"
"Yup, he's a good friend of mine!" Fuku said, widely grinning to the Kansai pro. "We were insei together for a year."
"Oh... And you came all the way from Tokyo to watch Touya play against me?".
"Er... no, I live here in Osaka. I moved last year," Fuku explained.
"OK, that's the reason for the strange Tokyo-ish accent in your mouth. Don't stay here too long though, or next year, Touya will make you repeat half your sentences."
"Like I always make you repeat!" Akira shrugged. "I've no problem understanding you as long as you articulate, or speak and eat separately."
"I don't remember you telling anything every time Shindo was spluttering during lunch, a string of noodles still linking the bowl and his big mouth," Yashiro observed.
"I gave up on him long ago. Hopeless case."
"What about Shindo?" Fuku asked opportunely. "I haven't seen him in the Festival, but I've only come today so..."
"He hasn't come," Akira said.
"Oh..."
Fuku looked slightly disappointed, but Yashiro didn't hide his contempt.
"Yeah, what bad excuse that lazy bum came up with again? I mean, apart from the 'not invited' one, I could arrange that."
"I told you he had already something with his study group," Akira explained. "He would have come otherwise."
"Bad excuse, that's it," Yashiro huffed.
"Obviously you don't know his master. But I'll tell him when I'm back."
"What time's your train tomorrow, by the way? I have a game in the morning, so if you leave after half past nine, don't forget to lock up and give the key to the caretaker."
"I won't forget. Since I have nothing tomorrow, I was thinking of sight-seeing a bit before going back home."
"Sight-seeing? Is there anything worth the sight in Osaka?" Yashiro said, as if the mere idea seemed completely odd to him.
"I guess so, though I still haven't found the time to check out."
"Yes, there is!" Fuku protested. "I've not been living here for long, but enough to know of many good places."
"Woah, take me on a tour some time," Yashiro drawled, obviously incredulous.
"Any time!" Fuku replied. He turned to Akira. "I can show you if you want!"
"Ah ? Er..."
"It's no problem for me!"
"Thanks... but you don't need to," Akira said, embarrassed.
"He's got no time to lose with an insei - I'm translating," Yashiro whispered to Fuku.
"Yamero!" Akira shouted, making both Yashiro and Fuku start on their chair, and the few people remaining in the room turn round. He was really angry this time. "Stop assuming things about me! You're insulting, to me and to Fukui-kun too!"
"Oh please!" Yashiro rejoined, unruffled. "I know of your polished ways to reject things that strongly bother you. Like 'Sorry, I'm too tired for a karaoke tonight.' Sheesh! Can't you tell things plain and clear?"
Akira was red, from confusion and anger.
"Yes, I was tired. I admit, I didn't feel like yelling silly songs in an overcrowded closet. Yes, I have polished ways to decline invitations, that I use even with blunt guys like you, because it's the way I was educated. If you have a problem with that, why don't you just leave Japan? Must be a hard place to live in for you!"
"Now, that's better. So won't you tell this gentleman, who kindly offered to be your guide tomorrow, why, while you're so eager to visit whatever can be visited in this darn city, you'll better do without him?"
Akira fumed.
"First, I didn't say that. Second, I assume that since tomorrow is a working day, Fukui-kun may have things to do..."
"I have some work in the morning, but I can free myself at noon," Fuku said immediately.
"So everything's fine!" Yashiro sniggered.
"Third: mind-your-own-business!" Akira hammered.
"Yeah, yeah, I let you guys settle things together," Yashiro stood up. "The ceremony should start soon... Hope they're done quickly with the speeches."
He walked away nonchalantly, leaving behind a very upset Akira, with a not-too-comfortable Fuku facing him.
"You know, I understand you'd rather stay by yourself..." the boy mumbled.
That didn't help to Akira's embarrassment, but he still had enough control of himself.
"Yashiro's wrong: I have yet to decide on this. Really, I don't want to be a burden to you."
"You're not! Er... I don't wanna be a burden to you either..." Fuku said in a little voice.
Akira sighed. Now that Yashiro had put him in a delicate situation, the better he had to do was to speak as frankly as he could without sounding rude.
"It's not that it'd bother me to spend the afternoon with somebody, but since we hardly know each other, I'm afraid we run short on conversation subjects..."
Fuku laughed.
"Hey, we've got at least one common interest, haven't we?" he said, patting the goban.
Akira smiled. The boy had scored a moku.
"I guess so."
"Here's the deal: I take you to nice places of Osaka - whatever Yashiro says, I'm sure you'll appreciate! In return, you tell me about the pro world, Shindo-kun and the other guys. You can even diss Yashiro as much as you like, I won't repeat it to him!" Fuku winked.
"Yashiro is a quick-tempered guy with personal issues," Akira said with a glance behind him. "That'll do for the dissing. As for the others... well, it's not like I hang about with everybody..."
His words sounded like he was hedging again. Akira had to sort the question out now. As he usually did when confronted with an alternative in a game, he quickly checked his mind to find any decisive argument against Fuku's offer, and found nothing. Instead, he thought that such a talkative boy might let slip out interesting facts about a certain someone, and that was decisive.
"Now if you want to know about the pro world, I can tell you about, but an afternoon seems too short for that, so I'd rather have you ask me specific questions, don't you think?"
Fuku's face instantly brightened up.
"OK then! And... tomorrow... if possible..."
"Yes?"
"... can we play another game?"
The next day, Akira woke up early, while Yashiro was still snoring - he would not surface until 8.30, despite the game he had this morning. They had agreed that Akira would leave his things in Yashiro's place for another day, to get back them before taking his train in the evening. Thus, after a quick - and certainly insufficient - breakfast, the young pro was striding down the streets of Osaka for a day of cultural sight-seeing.
Akira chose to spend the morning in two famous sites of the city: Osaka castle, from the top of which he could enjoy a panoramic view over the whole metropolis, then the Shitennoji temple, generally considered Japan's most ancient.
"That's good for a start," Fuku had told him. "They're packed with visitors, especially now, but you mustn't miss them."
Indeed, both places were literally swarming with people wielding various models of digital cameras. Akira, who really wasn't the typical tourist, kept away as much as he could from the throng, letting his eyes wander over the venerable architectures. He had thought of bringing back a souvenir for his mother, but the sight of besieged stalls made him give up the idea for the time being.
On his way southward, he stopped by the luxuriant Tennoji Park. He hadn't much time left before his meeting with Fuku, so he totally skipped the zoo and the art museum, and just walked down an alley or two - in the shade wherever possible, admiring the flowerbeds and greenery.
It was about twelve when he got out of Abenobashi Station. He paused among the bustling crowd to take a tissue and wipe his forehead: sun and weariness were taking their due... Then, a scrap of paper stuck in his palm, he bravely tried to find his way in the populous streets of Abeno ward. To tell the truth, Fuku's hand-drawn map was quite sketchy, but when Akira asked to locals, he was quickly and easily directed to a small block of traditional houses seemingly lost among taller buildings. At last he found the wide frontage of a shop topped by a quaint curved roof.
In the window, various flower arrangements, earthenware Buddhas, china plates, lacquered boxes and calligraphy scrolls were on display. Nailed by the entrance on the right side, a wooden sign read "Fukui Satoshi, decorator" in carved, black-painted ideograms. Those were also scribbled on the map, so Akira knew he had just to push the door to reach the rendezvous point.
The tinkling of chimes welcomed him as he stepped into a dimly lit hall. At once, Akira felt the temperature fall down to a pleasant coolness, though he couldn't hear the usual purr of an AC, nor the flap of ceiling fans. It was like entering a cellar, but a well-kept one, with light paintwork that made up for the lack of daylight - the scrolls hanging in the window blocking out a sheer part of it. Overall, the room was very neat, except for a bunch of packages piled on the side, probably goods ready for delivery.
"Konnichiha, sir, may I help you?" a soft voice asked behind the counter. Akira reckoned the woman in kimono was roughly the same age as Ichikawa-san, the pretty receptionist working at his father's Go salon. He bowed quickly.
"Konnichiha, I'm Touya Akira. I'd like to see Fukui Yuuta, we've arranged to meet here today."
The woman smiled.
"Fukui-kun is busy in the stockroom, but he will be done soon. Please have a seat while I'm telling him of your coming. Will you have some tea?"
"No, thank you very much," Akira replied on the same courteous tone. He couldn't honestly claim he wasn't thirsty, but he was the kind of person who would die rather than take the slightest risk of being considered a freeloader.
Once the woman was out of sight, he slumped down onto a padded stool. He was not used to walk so much, and at midday, he felt already dead on his feet. While relaxing his leg muscles, he looked over the collection of bonsai lined up on the shelves next to him. Though he was no expert on the matter, he could tell those were skilfully pruned, as the few ones in his parent's house were. The statuettes and other ornaments across the room didn't appeal to him as much, probably because he had been raised in the traditional Japanese austerity his father was very attached to. Luckily, he was spared the need to pretend some interested gaze for too long: a sweating Fuku in overalls turned up with a grin, and a crate he softly put down on the floor with the other packages.
"That's it!" he said, releasing a satisfied puff. He turned to Akira. "Hi! Sorry for making you wait, but I had all these orders to prepare..."
"No need to apologize, I was late myself," Akira said, standing up. "If you're busy, maybe I should..."
"No, no ! Everything's OK, just gimme two minutes to get changed and we go!"
"Go where, kid?" asked a gruff voice from the back of the shop.
Fuku winced as a regular stamp came resounding, followed by a short man slowly padding in, leaving it to the bamboo cane he was holding to stress his steps. In the dim light of the shop, Akira could see the man was old, probably in his seventies if not older. He was wearing a dark-green suit of Chinese fashion, and a black skull cap topped his salt-and-pepper hair. He was even shorter than Fuku, but standing straight, not actually leaning on his cane, which looked more like a symbol of authority.
"I've told you, Jii-san," Fuku groaned.
"You told me you had things to do this afternoon," the man retorted, "but I thought you wanted to get ahead with your work."
Fuku sighed.
"That was this morning, to get the afternoon free. I promised my friend here to guide him around."
The man glanced at Akira, who bowed to introduce himself.
"Konnichiha, sir. I'm Touya Akira."
The man just grunted in (no) answer, turning again to his grandson.
"And the orders you had to prepare, will they ship on their own?"
"They're ready," Fuku replied, nodding to the packages on the side, "and I've called Makoto-san to come in an hour to load everything."
"Makoto is not at your service!" the old man snapped. "He's a serious, hard-working lad who does a very good job and doesn't have to make it fit your personal schedule."
"But he said it's OK!" Fuku whined desperately.
"If you don't mind, Fukui-sama," the young lady in kimono suddenly interceded , "let me say your grandson is a very serious boy as well. He's been working hard all the morning to fulfill his duties, and he has finished them properly. Since he moved in with you, he's had very few occasions to see his old friends from Tokyo again; wouldn't it be cruel to make him miss this chance?"
The old man shrugged.
"You're too indulgent, Onoki-san. The earliest you learn to forgo personal pleasure and value the virtues of work, the better. This one has been drifting for too long," he said, tilting his head toward Fuku.
"But Fukui-kun has made a promise to this young man," Onoki added, smiling. "Surely you don't want him to lose face by making him break it."
"Don't mess with me, Onoki-san," Fukui Satoshi said, but his voice was not as peremptory as his words meant. Obviously, Onoki's soft manners had some influence over the old master's temper. He made a few steps toward Akira.
"You look like a serious young man, you should understand that Yuuta-kun's business is not tourism."
As uncomfortable as Akira felt, he was too well trained to lose his composure.
"I perfectly understand, sir. Fukui-kun's offer was so generous I had no reason to refuse, all the more so as he assured me it wouldn't interfere with his duties. But since you seem to think otherwise, I won't get in the way of your honorable business. Let me just thank your grandson for his kindness before I leave."
Both Fuku and Onoki stared at him, amazed. When speaking, Akira was radiating so much dignity through his relatively casual wear that the young lady thought the young boy would make a great diplomat or minister. Yet that was not enough to impress the shop's owner.
"Yes, do that," he said blankly. "Unlike you, he has no time for day-long strolls."
Akira turned livid in shock, but before he could think of any answer, Fuku exploded:
"Jii-san! Touya-sensei was working yesterday, and the day before!"
The man stared at Akira, this time with interest:
"Sensei ? So... What does this young master teach?"
"Ah ! Erm..." Fuku blurted, suddenly panicky.
"I'm a Go professional," Akira said. "I was giving lessons at the Kansai Institute's Festival yesterday."
Fuku sighed in despair. His grandfather now displayed a ferocious grin.
"There we are! I should have expected that... Of course you'd spoil half your day on senseless games, rather than earning it in a real business!"
"That's not true !" Fuku tried, unconvincing.
"There's no point lying. You really hope me to believe you'd spend a whole afternoon with a Go expert just for a walk around?"
"Maybe just one game, only if we have time..." Fuku mumbled. But the master wasn't even listening.
"As for you," he said bluntly to Akira, "I said you look like a serious young man, yet you're not ashamed of what you do for a living?"
At that point, most people in Akira's position would just lose
face, and leave at once without a word, possibly making sure the door
slams loudly behind them.
But you don't stoop to wimpy escape
when you're the son of a Meijin - even a former one. In other
times, the katana would have already flown out of its sheath
and swiftly beheaded the impudent midget. That handy artefact being
outlawed since the Meiji Restoration, Akira just glowered back, his
jade-green eyes expressing clearly their desire of watching the old
man being incinerated on the spot.
Yet his voice remained very
calm. Since he became a pro, and even before, he had already met his
share of arrogant know-it-all: most of the time their demeaning
speech betrayed some hidden inferiority complex.
"No, I'm not. I'm aware many people like you think playing and teaching Go is not a serious activity. They share the same views about actors and artists too, but they have little idea of the amount of work involved."
The man stroke his beard, staring straight at Akira.
"Oh, I'm not denying the work, my young fellow, I'm questioning the purpose!"
"The purpose..." Akira repeated, half-smiling. "For you, I guess there's none. For my part, seeing the pleasure people take in the game, and how gratefully they thank me after a lesson is enough for me."
"All right, you give pleasure to people," Fukui replied ironically. "Is that all?"
"That's already a lot!" Akira's anger was making its way up his throat. "There are other reasons, but I don't think you'd understand them, if you hate Go so much." Akira took a breath before striking back: "Anyway, I, for one, can say my business is an honest one!"
He didn't add "I don't know about yours" but his tone strongly implied it, and he had no doubt the geezer would get it. He just hoped things wouldn't get physical, not that he feared the bamboo cane, but he didn't really imagine himself manhandling anybody, even defensively.
The old master didn't use his cane against Akira. He just kept stroking his beard, inquisitively squinting at the young Go pro. Akira thought it was great time to leave, but before he could make a move, the owner spoke again.
"Am I wrong to presume your 'other reasons' include the so-called Kami no itte?"
Akira started.
"How..."
"How do I know about that? Yuuta-kun has told me about it..."
Fuku lowered his head, as if he knew already what was going to follow.
"Actually, that would be a good purpose," the man continued matter-of-factly. "Only..."
He allowed himself a pause. Obviously, he liked to save his effects for the gallery. Akira thought Fuku's grandfather would make a right pair with Kuwabara-sensei - as long as Go was not involved. He also thought he couldn't stand the old crank any longer.
"Only?" he let out impatiently.
"... only you Go professionals have no chance to ever find it!"
(to be continued)
NOTES:
Chuo-ku: a ward in downtown Osaka, where the Kansai Go Institute headquarters are located.
Tsuke: attachment, contact play against an opposite stone (without being connected with a friendly one).
Nobi: stretch, solid extension. "A nobi is often a good response to a tsuke" (Sensei's Library).
Moyo: "framework", zone of influence that has the potential to become a territory.
Yamero: "stop that"
--
Here's - at last! the real beginning of my fic. I know, it took me that long to come up with this chapter... I'm all the sorrier as I was so happy reading all of your reviews! It's so rewarding to know the time spent in various researches is appreciated! This time, I had to hunt for every piece of information about Osaka and the Kansai Go Institute. If I ever have the opportunity to travel there, maybe I'll rewrite this with better depictions of the place?
You're unanimous in commending my English, thus making me blush a lot. Before anybody gets any complex, let me say it's the result of twenty or more rewrites and re-readings, working through grammar books, dictionaries and thesaurus. Would you believe the hard time I have just trying to describe the most common everyday actions? So please never hesitate to correct me and thus improve the overall quality of this fic.
A few answers to some of your questions/comments:
Ikeda: I'm afraid Seimei's dead. But I'd be surprised if his name didn't come out in the following chapters...
Shimizu Hitomi: As a real go player, you must beat me on go writing! I'm so sorry but I'll probably take forever to update too... Thanks for your detailed review and your patience!
Jacqueline Land: I had doubts myself, but all along the "Onmyoji" movie, where the action unfolds in Seimei's youth, it's "Mikado this, Mikado that" (on the Japanese track), so I guess old Seimei may still use that title sometimes. Not that I consider the movie an unquestionable source, but well... Anyway, I'll try my best to make the incredible credible:)
Halley: I've read Murinae's saga and appreciated it (should review it some day:) I doubt I'll ever reach her level of detailing. I'm afraid Sai's dead, too. But a HnG story without Sai isn't really HnG, is it ? (no wonder they stopped the manga after that).
Thanks again to everybody, I'll try not to try your patience too much!
Valérien
