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

5. The Right Path


Comfortably settled in a seat of the bullet train flying to Tokyo, Akira was finally able to enjoy three hours alone, his sore legs relaxing from their unusual day-long work, and his brain recollecting the past events.

After their last game in the shrine, Akira and Fuku had quietly walked back to Abenobashi Station. On their path, they met Makoto, Fukui Satoshi's deliveryman, who pulled over as soon as he caught sight of them. He was a twenty-five years old stocky man whose grin was coming as easily as Fuku's. Naturally, he and the plump boy got along very well together. He had warmly shook Akira's hand - a bit too warmly to the Go pro's delicate fingers, then offered to drive them both to Yashiro's place, where Akira had to fetch his things before leaving. Akira had eventually accepted.

The three of them had squeezed up in the front seat of the narrow van, and Makoto had dived straight into the evening traffic, unimpressed like the bold driver he was. While slaloming between the other cars, he had laughed at Fuku's report of the clash between his boss and Akira.

"Incredible, 'wish I was there to watch! No doubt he'll remember you after that," he had told the latter in his thick Kansai accent.

"I don't mind if he remembers me, but I'd rather forget him," Akira had replied, making Makoto laugh louder than ever.

"Nasty old scarecrow, eh? You wonder how people like Onoki-chan can stand him all day long... But when you get to know him better, he's not as bad as he wants to look."

Akira had not commented. Thanks to Makoto's driving skills, they made their way quite quickly. Despite Akira's protest, Fuku and Makoto had waited for him at the foot of the building where Yashiro lived. The 3-dan had even come down with Akira to greet them. He sympathized with Fuku, strongly enjoining him to tell his gramps to get lost - in slightly cruder words. He had not offered any other assistance though. Fuku had just smiled sadly. Later on, Makoto and Fuku had dropped Akira at Shin-Osaka Station, where they all exchanged many thanks. Fuku especially had a hard time bringing himself to the parting. Akira had gave him a few comforting words and promised to say hello "to everybody" from him.

That was an hour ago...

It had been an enjoyable day altogether, save for the unpleasant incident at the shop. Akira wanted to shut out the old master from his memory, and remember Fuku's kindness only. It wasn't easy: the decorator's cutting remarks had stung his professional pride, and Fuku's statements about the alleged nature of the Kami no itte were obsessing him.

It was on that occasion that Akira realized he had never seriously considered the question before. The "divine hand" was something he had always heard about, but never really challenged. Why would he do? His father - the ultimate authority on Go in Akira's eyes - had been searching for it all his life, and never expressed any doubt. He had passed his quest down to his son, along with his knowledge of the game, and Akira had assimilated the whole package without question, even in his early teens, when comes the urge to assert oneself against elders.

It wasn't a matter of blind faith, however. The young man had already felt - almost physically - the shadow of its existence: in his only game against the mysterious Sai, in the ones against the early Shindo... Those were proper fighting Go games, no doubt about it. The perfect game did exist, Akira knew it, it only had been eluding him as well as the best players for thousand years. Why should he mind the tripe from an old snake who must never have experienced that shadow the least in his whole life?

Because so was Akira he couldn't ignore an intellectual challenge when it came to him. For that reason, as soon as he's home and despite his tiredness, he began a feverish search in Touya Kouyo's personal library. He skimmed over the wordy essay in which he had read about the astrological roots of the game, but feeling drowsy in the middle of a paragraph, finally made for his futon, a pile of books under his arm.

The following days, he wasn't much around his father's Go salon, spending most of his free time in the Ki-in's huge library, or at home. Of course, Ichikawa instantly noticed and gave a slightly alarmed call to the Touya's residence, but Akira allayed her worries, telling her he was engrossed by a very interesting point about Go history - which was the absolute truth by the way. He promised to drop by the salon soon, and thus gained a couple of days grace.

Despite his efforts, he wasn't the wiser too much. He found a lot of documents about the origins of Go, some fueling the Taoist approach, but none of them making any connection to the Kami no itte. On that very subject, the literature turned quite speculative, and invariably stayed within the limits of the formal game.

Akira wasn't luckier online: all the search engines tended to return the same data, often ripped off from the books he had already read. Some links pointed to a successful experiment in Europe with computers on a 5x5 grid. Quite interesting, but extraneous. Finally, a few comments in pro players' blogs, too vague or too irrelevant to help, made Akira wonder whether he should ask his peers or not about the elusive Hand.

The first person he should ask, of course, was his father. But the former Meijin lived most of the time abroad with his wife, officially championing the Beijing Go team, secretly searching the Go world for a hypothetical Sai. Akira was in touch with him once in a week at least, but didn't feel like tackling him about such a topic by phone. An e-mail wouldn't do better, since for all the games the senior player had managed to play online - and there weren't too many of them, he remained ignorant of such a simple way to communicate. In his defense, that kind of blockage was very common of his generation.

On a fine after-game evening, Ogata invited Akira for sushi at a first-class restaurant in the Roppongi area. As they were savoring the overpriced dish, Akira made a few attempts to bring the talk around to the question. The elder pro squinted at the younger one:

"Kami no itte? You're already flying this high, Akira-kun?"

"I'm not! I wish I were..." Akira muttered. "I'd like to know your opinion about it, nothing more."

"Ichikawa told me you spend an unusual time in libraries these days. Does it prey so much on your mind?"

Trust Ogata to evade issues and grill you instead.

"There's nothing wrong in doing some research on the side," Akira shrugged. "I thought it was something pros like us could discuss, but if you're not interested, let's talk about something else."

"Right, I may not be interested for now," Ogata said, delicately picking a white tuna between his chopsticks. "I stay focused on reality: the title games, my opponents..." He considered the slice of raw fish like a shark its prey. "... you."

Akira ignored the innuendo.

"Must I understand that, for you, the Kami no itte has no reality?"

Ogata waited for the tuna to sink down his gullet before answering.

"What you must understand, Akira-kun, is that whether it's real or not, it's not my top priority... nor yours. When you've got four or five titles and most of your career behind you, like your father, then you'll have the time and skill to study the question. How long have you been a pro?"

Akira kept mute, but Ogata didn't expect any answer: he knew they both knew it.

"Four years, five dan, no title yet," he enumerated. "Nice and steady growth, but quite disappointing considering the expectations we all had. Why don't you throw away that 'promising boy' outfit you've been wearing for so long and fulfill them plainly? Or do you plan to leave it for someone else? Someone more promising?"

Akira easily guessed whom Ogata was teasing him with, but as unnerving as the elder pro could be, he didn't fly off the handle. Better let Ogata act superior and not mention the recent loss of his Gosei title to Kurata 8-dan.

"Sorry if I've disappointed you in any way, Ogata-san. I'll try my best next time," Akira replied blankly. Next time I face you across a goban.

After that night, Akira was about to give up. Ogata wasn't wrong after all, his present career was the most important for now. He paid a last visit to the Ki-in's library however, but he had already exhausted all the material it could provide him. Sitting alone at a table in the public playing room, he was idly trying a few patterns on the board, forcing himself to ignore the logical joseki to build a new type of game. Not too successfully, as an unctuous voice behind him confirmed:

"I think I recognize that game. Last time my six-years-old great-nephew gave me a lesson..."

"Kuwabara-sensei!"

Akira quickly swept the stones out of the board, though he guessed the old man had been watching his "game" for a while.

"I was just... trying... something..." he stammered, flushing like mad.

Kuwabara displayed his usual ape-like smile.

"The son of my great friend Touya must have really cunning plans to win with such moves. That, or victory isn't the purpose."

Akira was boiling in shame, but the old pro's words struck him.

"Kuwabara-sensei... Is the divine hand a winning one?" he asked all of a sudden.

Kuwabara was rarely taken off guard, but Akira's unexpected question got him.

"The divine hand? Is that what you're looking for? Right now?"

I've already heard that, Akira winced. He couldn't avoid a bit of explanation if he wanted an effective answer to his question.

"Well, last week in Osaka, I met someone..."

In broad outline, Akira told Kuwabara about what Fuku had expounded him.

The Honinbo title-holder was stroking his chin.

"Hmm, interesting theory...But I suggest you don't spend any more time on that. It's no use for you now, you won't be able to beat anyone with so poor maneuvers, and certainly not me!" he sniggered.

Akira smiled.

"Of course, Kuwabara-sensei, I would insult you if I wasn't using all my strength against you."

"Bwahaha, you'd better do, young Touya, and I'm afraid it won't be enough!" Kuwabara laughed.

He picked up a cigarette and lighted it.

"By the way... Your rival, is he still facing you?" he asked before taking a long drag.

Akira frowned imperceptibly. Why on earth people had to systematically associate him with Shindo? It seemed a real trend these days and it was getting on his nerves.

"Yes..." he moaned reluctantly.

Kuwabara released a satisfied cloud of smoke.

"You needn't worry about the Kami no itte, then. You're still on the right path."


To tell the truth, Akira hadn't faced his rival since his return from Osaka. He had been skipping their usual meetings at his father's salon, but after those useless researches, he decided that it was great time to go back to normal.

One Tuesday evening, he precisely ran into the young 3-dan, impossible to miss in the Ki-in's lobby with his bright yellow T-shirt sporting an umpteenth variation of "5". He was chatting lightly with a smaller boy in khakis - or was it a girl? Getting closer, Akira heard a little squeal answer to Shindo's assurance that "Okay for tomorrow night!", and the blush on the small face hidden by half-long hair did not help to clear up Akira's doubt. The young boy - so he turned out to be - blushed even more when he caught sight of him.

"Touya-san..." He bowed mechanically. Then, with a shy smile to Hikaru: "See you tomorrow, sensei!" and he hurried out of the building.

Hikaru waved to him, then greeted his rival with a wide grin.

"Hi Touya, long time no see!"

"Sensei?" Akira was still staring at the running boy.

"Yes, from now on, I'm Oka's official master!" Hikaru announced proudly.

"You?"

Touya's incredulous tone was sounding very unpleasantly in Hikaru's ears.

"Yeah, I. What does that mean, I'm not good enough to teach?" he asked threateningly.

"I know you're good enough, but isn't that boy an insei?"

"Yes, he is, so what?"

"Well, in his position, you'd rather choose someone more... advanced."

"Like you, I suppose?" Hikaru sniggered.

"Not me either," Akira replied. "I give occasional shidougo lessons, just as you do, but I don't see myself tutoring someone in particular, especially someone who studies to be pro. Not yet."

"Says the guy who's trained an insei throughout his pro exam..." Hikaru sniggered even more.

"That was... erm... exceptional," Akira coughed.

The best way to get him insecure was to drag up a not too glorious chapter of his past deeds.

Still grinning, Hikaru suddenly closed the distance between them, his olive-green eyes pinning the jade-green ones at a mere ten centimeters.

"Exceptional, yeah, just like me!" he whispered as a mock confidence.

Akira nervously stepped back, frowning at that invasion of his personal space.

"Anyway... An insei has better chances of success, studying within a study group, under a 9-dan with decades of experience, don't you think?" he said. "That's what you've done yourself."

"Aha. But you know what Oka told me? 'Shindo-san, I've been watching your games for more than two years now. If I want to be more than the average pro, I need more than an average master. I want to follow the path of a growing genius.' Hear that?"

Arms folded behind his head, the bleached pro was obviously lapping it up. Akira rolled his eyes.

"He sure knows how to speak to you. I bet he offered to treat you with ramen as well?"

"Not at all!" Hikaru loudly protested. "Hmm, actually yes... But that doesn't change nothing! He's looking for a genius, and you'll notice he's turned to me, not to you!"

That's getting really childish, Akira thought, but unconsciously he tuned up himself on the same mood.

"Don't you think he's chosen you for your clothing taste?"

Hikaru glared at him.

"Anything wrong with my gear, Touya? 'Cause I could speak a lot about yours..."

"That wasn't criticism, just comparison. It seems like you both shop at the same stores."

"You must be kidding. Have you looked closely at him?"

"Fortunately yes, otherwise I'd have thought you had a new girlfriend..." Akira replied.

This time, Hikaru longed for something handy to smack Touya's head. The last issue of Weekly Go was already in his backpack, his sacrosanct fan was out of question and somehow, he was reluctant to use his bare hand on Touya. Outraged, he racked the evil part of his brains to find a well-chosen retort.

"You... you're one to talk! Nobody ever told you how sexy you look with this haircut?"

He didn't realize at once what he had just said. Akira's eyes bulged in horrified disbelief.

"That's what you think?"

"Hngg... HECK NO!" Hikaru roared, flushing like mad. I'll kill you, Touya! "What I mean... ahem... whatever."

Better stop before getting into more and more of a mess... Touya looked upset too, so Hikaru could be satisfied with it.

"Anyway, please note I agreed to tutor Oka not because he looks like a pretty girl - he really doesn't and I'm not that kinda guy, 'kay? I agreed because he's pretty good, and he's the most determined to pass pro this year; nearly made it last time. I've nothing to do with cuteys who wouldn't see an atari coming if it bitted their silly butts. See my point, Mr. Bimbo-Magnet?"

He was all too happy to deride Touya's uncontrolled - and largely unexploited - success with womankind.

Akira sighed. He had known Shindo for years, their relationship was running much smoother than before, yet there was still that distance between them, loaded with unspoken thoughts and misunderstandings. Every attempt from either side to fill the gap generally worsened things. For example, when Akira ventured some informal teasing on his rival, whether he had a bad sense of humor or his didn't match Shindo's, he would just succeed in annoying him. The same happened the other way too...

"You know I don't choose my clients..." Akira muttered. "As for your... disciple, if he's as committed as you say, it's okay, I just hope he won't regret his choice."

Hikaru snorted in disdain.

"Since we're talking about masters and study groups, how was the meeting with yours?" Akira asked to ease the atmosphere.

"Fine..." Hikaru uttered without much conviction. "Morishita-sensei invited us all to the restaurant. We were not supposed to speak about Go for once, but of course, he had to broadcast his wishes for everyone of us. Oh, for your information, I'm ordered to beat you in our next official game."

"Good luck."

"Don't laugh, Touya, he so scared me I feel like I gonna cream you this time."

"Really? But if things turn as usual, you can remind your sensei he has yet to beat Father."

"Yeah right, just say you want me dead... Now tell me, what about your trip to Osaka? How's Yashiro doing?" Hikaru asked more eagerly.

"He's doing well. Have you seen the kifu?"

"No, it wasn't even in Weekly Go. What the hell those reporters are paid for? I've only heard you won by two moku and a half, and Yashiro gave you a hard time..."

"Not so hard, but still... I'll replay it for you if you want."

"I can't wait to watch that!" Hikaru was recovering his good mood. "By the way, I didn't see you at the salon last time. Ichikawa-san told me you were busy on special studies..."

"Ah, sorry, I should have called you."

"No problem, I played Kitajima-san instead. Gave him a run for his money and for sneering at me all year round. But it must be something really important to make you skip the salon, you're always stuck there!"

Akira ignored the sarcasm.

"I thought it was, but never mind."

"Oh, won't you tell me?" Hikaru insisted, his curiosity naturally aroused by Akira's evasiveness.

"Maybe... someday." Akira replied with a knowing look at his rival. Hikaru pulled a face.

"...'mkay," he grumbled. "So, Thursday 5 PM, as usual?"

"All right. Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Instead of the salon, we can meet at my place just as well."

Hikaru looked startled by Akira's sudden offer.

"Is there a problem at the salon?" he asked with slight concern.

"Er... I don't think so. Is there a problem at my house?"

"No... It's just... Well, you don't invite people to come over too often, so I was wondering... Is it I've broken something during our last fight, or maybe Kitajima's waiting for me behind the door with an axe?"

Akira's face darkened.

"You're not funny."

"Hey, honest!" Hikaru asserted. "I guess they're all fed up with our arguments, and you daren't tell me I'm not welcome to the salon anymore?"

"Of course you're welcome," Akira said, slightly blushing. "As for me not inviting people... If you want to know, since there were already a lot of pros coming to play Father, I never had to call anyone," he muttered as an excuse. "Now he's in China with Mother, that's different. Ogata-san and Ashiwara-san already drop by from time to time, so I thought you..."

"No problem," Hikaru cut with a grin. "Just give me a proper map so I don't get lost like the first time with Yashiro."

"What? You don't remember?"

"Touya, it was two years ago!"

"All right..." Akira sighed. "But if you get lost after that, you'll have to draw the right conclusions and admit you're not able to read a map."

"It's not my fault if the one you made then was incorrect."

"Yashiro and I have talked about it recently, and he confirmed it was your fault and not that of my map."

"Liars!"

"OK, no map, I'll wait for you at the station!" Akira decided abruptly. "Remember where to get off, at least?"

"..."


Fortunately, Hikaru was not so thick he wouldn't remember a single station name. The two boys met without problem on the platform that Thursday afternoon.

In an effort of casualness, Akira wore a green polo shirt with the upper button undone, and a pair of light blue jeans. Hikaru was his usual self, black Bermudas beneath a white T-shirt with orange sleeves and a flashy brand spread on the back. The distance between the station and Touya's residence was rather short, but they took their time, lazily strolling and conversing under the hot sun.

"Yashiro's not fair, I wanted to go to Osaka too!" Hikaru groaned. "I had my Monday free as well, so I'd have come with you guys to visit the city."

"Yashiro had a game that day."

"Oh, so you were on your own..."

"In the morning, yes. But your friend Fukui guided me for the rest of the day."

Hikaru goggled at Akira.

"Fuku! You've seen Fuku?"

"I met him at the end of the Festival. He offered to show me a few sites on his free time."

"Wow, and you accepted?"

Hikaru would hardly be more stunned if Touya told him he had done a bit of skateboarding there.

"Yes, why not?" Akira replied. He made no mention of Yashiro's involvement in the matter, Shindo's smile was irritating enough. "What again?"

Hikaru couldn't resist anymore and gave a friendly slap on his rival's back.

"Finally, you're socializing!"

"Idiot." Akira hated it when Shindo got this familiar.

"So Fuku, what's he up to?" Hikaru continued merrily.

"He lives in Osaka and despairs of playing Go."

"Ah yes, Waya told me he quit the insei last year. Too bad... So he's in Osaka now? What's he doing there?"

Akira gave a short report of Fuku's situation, with an especially unflattering picture of the grandfather. Hikaru looked really sorry for his friend:

"Poor Fuku, stuck in Geezerland..." He suddenly hit his left palm with his right fist. "Touya, let's form a squad with Yashiro to rescue him!"

"Rescue him to where?" Akira replied. "From what he told me, I reckon his opportunities here in Tokyo are scarce. His only chance of making it was to become pro, and he's given up. Will you make him pass?"

Hikaru shrugged.

"As far as I'm concerned, they can turn the whole Class One into pros, I'd be fine to play them all again."

"Then the Ki-in would have to pay them all and they're not that rich. Unless you're willing to share a part of your appointments... they're not too high for the moment."

Instantly, Akira was aware of his light mocking falling wrong - once again. He didn't wait long for the unavoidable retort.

"So we're playing for money now, Touya?"

The words and the olive orbs were sending a vibrant reproach to the younger pro, who should have known better. Akira looked away, blushing.

"No, we're not." He gulped. "Gomen nasai."


(to be continued)

NOTES:

"a successful experiment in Europe": performed in 2002. Erik van der Werf, a CS researcher at the university of Maastricht (Netherlands), wrote a program that successfully solved 5x5 Go. His work has resulted in a thesis about AI techniques applied to the game of Go.

Oka: for those who've not read the last HnG offshots published in Jump, Oka is a young insei boy (though he looks a bit girlish...), and a strong Akira fan, while his rival Shouji (a boy for sure) thinks Hikaru's better. In the first round of the Young Lions Tournament, Oka has to face Hikaru, and Shouji, Akira. Of course, they're both crushed, and they both change their mind about who's their preferred champion - so in the end they never agree and keep squabbling like good rivals! (August 2006 edit: I'm ashamed to say that for several months and a couple of chapters in this fic, Oka has actually been a girl - see notes in chapter 7)

--

First, sorry for the overdue chapter. Since it was a part I've been devising for long, I naively thought words would come easily under my fingers. Actually, too much thinking up can leave you paralyzed, especially when you want something as important as Hikaru's return to be great and enjoyable.

This chapter wasn't supposed to end on this, you may even think it's a bit short compared to the previous ones, but watching the file steadily inflating up to 50 KB made me rethink my script. Don't worry, I won't push the cliffie too long.

Once again, thank you all for your reviews and the interest you express in this story, Murgatroyd, mika, Ishkabod (a long time supporter, thanks!), therhoda, Catwho, Coiling Death, Precognition74. When I don't have time or I don't feel like working on the fic (sorry, that happens too!), your support reminds me I have a work in progress that needs a conclusion. That's the commitment I made when I started this fic.

Valérien