blogging meme 24 Dec
Dec. 24th, 2013 11:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
issenlloI can't think of any topic, so have a fragment of an unfinished fic:
Title: fragment of In Whose Footsteps, In Whose Hands
Series: Hikaru no Go
Pairings: Akira/OC, hint of Hikaru/Akira
Disclaimer: Hikaru no Go is the creation of Hotta and Obata
Summary: future fic
------------
The expression on the boy's face so reminded Hikaru of himself that he couldn't help cracking a grin as the boy came near. The unnaturally bright blond hair added to the impression, even though the boy had dyed all his hair, unlike Hikaru's old hairstyle. Hikaru was willing to bet, though, that the boy's hairstyle was more an attempt at rebellion than Hikaru's desire to look cool at that age. There was something about that mixture of brashness and shyness that Hikaru thought he recognised from some of his students.
"Are you Shindou Hikaru Honinbou?" the boy asked with a remarkable lack of politeness. Fujitsu, behind him, drew in a sharp, scandalised breath, and Hikaru grinned even more widely.
"Yup," Hikaru answered just as informally. "Would you like to play a game?" he added, noticing the boy's furtive look at the goban he had been using to demonstrate the endgame of his most recent match with Touya (he won, thank you for asking). He had the impression that the boy knew the game well: something about the focus of that gaze.
The boy hesitated, almost as though he were suddenly conscious of the surroundings. Hikaru glanced around. "Well, the exhibition is nearly over, and I don't have to go anywhere yet. How about it?" He didn't bother with inane questions like "Where's your mother?"; in his experience, children who were self-possessed enough to come to an event like this – it was not a children's event, but one for serious hobbyists and younger pros, not amateurs – didn't need to be shepherded by a parent. He had gone everywhere about Tokyo when he was this boy's age after all, albeit with Sai.
"I would be honoured, sensei," the boy said, and Hikaru, hiding his bemusement at the mixture of formal and informal Japanese, directed Fujitsu to find the boy a chair (chairs at exhibitions and conventions, in Hikaru's experience, had the tendency to become animated and walk off by themselves – or so it seemed) while he cleared the goban.
"What kind of handicap would you like?" Hikaru asked.
The boy opened his mouth, and Fujitsu cleared his throat fussily. "Three stones, please," the boy said, glaring in Fujitsu's direction.
Hikaru thought the boy would have liked to deny needing any handicap.
The game started, and twenty hands in, Hikaru found himself looking at the boy more closely than he had. It was not because the boy was unexpectedly good; Hikaru realised that the boy was indeed extremely talented by the sixth hand, but there was something about the boy's playing style. It reminded him of somebody, the influence strong enough that it had to be from a teacher that the boy had, from an extremely young age, or a parent who also played Go. Hikaru's instinct told him it was more likely a parent's influence: Touya's playing style had been like that when he was young, with Touya-sensei's style showing clearly then, and so had a few of his students who learnt Go from a parents who were pros.
The boy didn't seem to notice Hikaru's scrutiny. He studied the goban, his eyes sharpening as he tracked the moves and his expression growing abstract as he thought though strategies. One of his parents was Japanese, and one was not, Hikaru thought, but nowadays with the number of foreigners who had settled down in Tokyo, one could not say for certain. There was something about the shape of his eyes that seem familiar. Hikaru blinked, then caught himself and applied himself to the game as the boy placed a particularly astute hand.
It was not shidogou, though Hikaru had placed a couple of hands to test the boy, but an earnest game that came to an end in just over an hour.
"I resign," the boy said, and bowed.
Hikaru nodded. "Thank you for the game," he said in the same serious tone, then said, "You played well. Did you enjoy the game?"
"Yes, sensei. Thank you for the game. I will work harder." Unable to control himself, he gave a discouraged sigh, looking very young at that moment.
Hikaru blinked.
"Your mother's Akari!" he exclaimed, and clapped a hand to his mouth when the boy grew wide-eyed at his outburst. "Um, I mean-" he wondered what to say to apologise for startling the boy when the boy spoke.
"My mother is Akari Fujisaki-Lambert. Do you know her, sensei?"
Hikaru sat up. "Really? It's really Akari? I didn’t know she had come back to Japan. I haven't heard from her since she got married and went to America." The lack of contact was wholly his fault: he was terrible at keeping up with friends who were not in the Go world. "So, um, how is she? Is she still playing Go? Are you back for a visit, then?"
The boy was starting to look distrustful at the barrage of questions, and Hikaru hurried to explain, "Akari and I were classmates when we were children, and we were friends for a really long time. Are friends. Really! You can call her and ask her."
"My mother follows your games," the boy said sturdily. "But she didn't say she knew you."
"Yeah, and I'm surprised she didn't get in touch with me, since she's back in Japan. She would know how to contact me, and I haven't moved. I think I still have her email address somewhere-" He patted his pockets for his phone, wondering where he had placed it this time.
But the boy was already on his own phone. After a mixture of what sounded like English – Shindou Hikaru, lousy at languages – and muttered rapid-fire Japanese, the boy held the gadget out to Hikaru. "She wants to speak to you."
***
Akari looked as warm and friendly as Hikaru remembered, and he squeaked a little when she hugged him. "Um, Akari-"
She released him, but was unapologetic. "American habits, Hikaru," she said. "How are you?" They sat down in the corner of his favourite restaurant not far from the Go Association.
Hikaru tried to smile, shrug modestly and reflect that curiosity back at her. "I'm fine. How about you? How long are you staying before you have to go back?"
She had looked bemused at the barrage of questions but at the last question, she sobered. "I'm staying for the long term, Hikaru. My husband died last year and there wasn't anyone else we knew in America, so I came back with Ryou."
"Oh. Sorry." Hikaru wasn't sure if he ought to be sorry that her husband died, or for reminding her of something sad. "Um, wait. He said his name is David!"
"Yes. But we gave him a Japanese name too, and since we're now in Japan, I thought it would be easier to adapt if he used his Japanese name."
Hikaru was sure his expression reflected his scepticism.
Akari gave a sigh that Hikaru knew well. "It hasn't been easy for him. He misses his father, and things are so different here. Other things aside, he hasn't been getting along with his classmates and I know they-"
It didn't need to be said. Even the children of Japanese couples who had lived abroad found it hard to integrate into the system, and it was even worse for those who obviously looked different. Hikaru understood the hairstyle now: what better way to tell the bullies that he had no intention of conforming to their standards?
"Luckily for me, he's very independent and mature most of the time."
"And he plays Go."
"I taught him," Akari answered Hikaru's unspoken question. "Alvin played a little too, though he wasn't very good, so I was the one who taught him."
Hikaru nodded. "That's right, his style reminds me of your playing style."
"But he's much better than I will ever be," Akari said. "I was thinking about getting him a proper teacher, once things settle down a bit more. He needs to catch up on schoolwork, too. I thought about the Ki-In, but-"
Go-obsessed children could be no less tolerant than other children.
"He can learn with me," Hikaru offered.
Akari tilted her head slightly, thinking.
"If you don't mind, that is," Hikaru hastened to add.
She sat back and studied him for a moment. Hikaru felt vaguely offended at the scrutiny: surely she knew that he was the trustworthy sort, and what was thirty-something years of friendship for, if not to depend upon?
"Akari?"
"What about Touya?"
"Touya?" Hikaru echoed, and his frown re-appeared, making him look uncertain and much younger than before. "Akari, you are not still... bothered by Akira and me, are you?" He had suspected that it was one of the reasons why she contacted him less and less frequently, until she left the country altogether.
She shook her head. "It's been years, Hikaru. I've had time to think sensibly. I was just wondering how Touya would take the news."
Hikaru looked blank. "It's none of his business? Akira and I each have our own students and teaching style. Although I'm sure he'd certainly like to play with Ryou if there's an opportunity."
Akari wasn't so sure, but she nodded.
Title: fragment of In Whose Footsteps, In Whose Hands
Series: Hikaru no Go
Pairings: Akira/OC, hint of Hikaru/Akira
Disclaimer: Hikaru no Go is the creation of Hotta and Obata
Summary: future fic
------------
The expression on the boy's face so reminded Hikaru of himself that he couldn't help cracking a grin as the boy came near. The unnaturally bright blond hair added to the impression, even though the boy had dyed all his hair, unlike Hikaru's old hairstyle. Hikaru was willing to bet, though, that the boy's hairstyle was more an attempt at rebellion than Hikaru's desire to look cool at that age. There was something about that mixture of brashness and shyness that Hikaru thought he recognised from some of his students.
"Are you Shindou Hikaru Honinbou?" the boy asked with a remarkable lack of politeness. Fujitsu, behind him, drew in a sharp, scandalised breath, and Hikaru grinned even more widely.
"Yup," Hikaru answered just as informally. "Would you like to play a game?" he added, noticing the boy's furtive look at the goban he had been using to demonstrate the endgame of his most recent match with Touya (he won, thank you for asking). He had the impression that the boy knew the game well: something about the focus of that gaze.
The boy hesitated, almost as though he were suddenly conscious of the surroundings. Hikaru glanced around. "Well, the exhibition is nearly over, and I don't have to go anywhere yet. How about it?" He didn't bother with inane questions like "Where's your mother?"; in his experience, children who were self-possessed enough to come to an event like this – it was not a children's event, but one for serious hobbyists and younger pros, not amateurs – didn't need to be shepherded by a parent. He had gone everywhere about Tokyo when he was this boy's age after all, albeit with Sai.
"I would be honoured, sensei," the boy said, and Hikaru, hiding his bemusement at the mixture of formal and informal Japanese, directed Fujitsu to find the boy a chair (chairs at exhibitions and conventions, in Hikaru's experience, had the tendency to become animated and walk off by themselves – or so it seemed) while he cleared the goban.
"What kind of handicap would you like?" Hikaru asked.
The boy opened his mouth, and Fujitsu cleared his throat fussily. "Three stones, please," the boy said, glaring in Fujitsu's direction.
Hikaru thought the boy would have liked to deny needing any handicap.
The game started, and twenty hands in, Hikaru found himself looking at the boy more closely than he had. It was not because the boy was unexpectedly good; Hikaru realised that the boy was indeed extremely talented by the sixth hand, but there was something about the boy's playing style. It reminded him of somebody, the influence strong enough that it had to be from a teacher that the boy had, from an extremely young age, or a parent who also played Go. Hikaru's instinct told him it was more likely a parent's influence: Touya's playing style had been like that when he was young, with Touya-sensei's style showing clearly then, and so had a few of his students who learnt Go from a parents who were pros.
The boy didn't seem to notice Hikaru's scrutiny. He studied the goban, his eyes sharpening as he tracked the moves and his expression growing abstract as he thought though strategies. One of his parents was Japanese, and one was not, Hikaru thought, but nowadays with the number of foreigners who had settled down in Tokyo, one could not say for certain. There was something about the shape of his eyes that seem familiar. Hikaru blinked, then caught himself and applied himself to the game as the boy placed a particularly astute hand.
It was not shidogou, though Hikaru had placed a couple of hands to test the boy, but an earnest game that came to an end in just over an hour.
"I resign," the boy said, and bowed.
Hikaru nodded. "Thank you for the game," he said in the same serious tone, then said, "You played well. Did you enjoy the game?"
"Yes, sensei. Thank you for the game. I will work harder." Unable to control himself, he gave a discouraged sigh, looking very young at that moment.
Hikaru blinked.
"Your mother's Akari!" he exclaimed, and clapped a hand to his mouth when the boy grew wide-eyed at his outburst. "Um, I mean-" he wondered what to say to apologise for startling the boy when the boy spoke.
"My mother is Akari Fujisaki-Lambert. Do you know her, sensei?"
Hikaru sat up. "Really? It's really Akari? I didn’t know she had come back to Japan. I haven't heard from her since she got married and went to America." The lack of contact was wholly his fault: he was terrible at keeping up with friends who were not in the Go world. "So, um, how is she? Is she still playing Go? Are you back for a visit, then?"
The boy was starting to look distrustful at the barrage of questions, and Hikaru hurried to explain, "Akari and I were classmates when we were children, and we were friends for a really long time. Are friends. Really! You can call her and ask her."
"My mother follows your games," the boy said sturdily. "But she didn't say she knew you."
"Yeah, and I'm surprised she didn't get in touch with me, since she's back in Japan. She would know how to contact me, and I haven't moved. I think I still have her email address somewhere-" He patted his pockets for his phone, wondering where he had placed it this time.
But the boy was already on his own phone. After a mixture of what sounded like English – Shindou Hikaru, lousy at languages – and muttered rapid-fire Japanese, the boy held the gadget out to Hikaru. "She wants to speak to you."
***
Akari looked as warm and friendly as Hikaru remembered, and he squeaked a little when she hugged him. "Um, Akari-"
She released him, but was unapologetic. "American habits, Hikaru," she said. "How are you?" They sat down in the corner of his favourite restaurant not far from the Go Association.
Hikaru tried to smile, shrug modestly and reflect that curiosity back at her. "I'm fine. How about you? How long are you staying before you have to go back?"
She had looked bemused at the barrage of questions but at the last question, she sobered. "I'm staying for the long term, Hikaru. My husband died last year and there wasn't anyone else we knew in America, so I came back with Ryou."
"Oh. Sorry." Hikaru wasn't sure if he ought to be sorry that her husband died, or for reminding her of something sad. "Um, wait. He said his name is David!"
"Yes. But we gave him a Japanese name too, and since we're now in Japan, I thought it would be easier to adapt if he used his Japanese name."
Hikaru was sure his expression reflected his scepticism.
Akari gave a sigh that Hikaru knew well. "It hasn't been easy for him. He misses his father, and things are so different here. Other things aside, he hasn't been getting along with his classmates and I know they-"
It didn't need to be said. Even the children of Japanese couples who had lived abroad found it hard to integrate into the system, and it was even worse for those who obviously looked different. Hikaru understood the hairstyle now: what better way to tell the bullies that he had no intention of conforming to their standards?
"Luckily for me, he's very independent and mature most of the time."
"And he plays Go."
"I taught him," Akari answered Hikaru's unspoken question. "Alvin played a little too, though he wasn't very good, so I was the one who taught him."
Hikaru nodded. "That's right, his style reminds me of your playing style."
"But he's much better than I will ever be," Akari said. "I was thinking about getting him a proper teacher, once things settle down a bit more. He needs to catch up on schoolwork, too. I thought about the Ki-In, but-"
Go-obsessed children could be no less tolerant than other children.
"He can learn with me," Hikaru offered.
Akari tilted her head slightly, thinking.
"If you don't mind, that is," Hikaru hastened to add.
She sat back and studied him for a moment. Hikaru felt vaguely offended at the scrutiny: surely she knew that he was the trustworthy sort, and what was thirty-something years of friendship for, if not to depend upon?
"Akari?"
"What about Touya?"
"Touya?" Hikaru echoed, and his frown re-appeared, making him look uncertain and much younger than before. "Akari, you are not still... bothered by Akira and me, are you?" He had suspected that it was one of the reasons why she contacted him less and less frequently, until she left the country altogether.
She shook her head. "It's been years, Hikaru. I've had time to think sensibly. I was just wondering how Touya would take the news."
Hikaru looked blank. "It's none of his business? Akira and I each have our own students and teaching style. Although I'm sure he'd certainly like to play with Ryou if there's an opportunity."
Akari wasn't so sure, but she nodded.
no subject
Date: 2014-01-02 10:03 pm (UTC)