A/N: Writer's Block~ (CiaTS is glaring at me, I can feel it.) Anyway, this is strangely...canon-compliant. I never do canon-compliant, ohmygod. (is shocked)

Disclaimer: I do not own Hikaru no Go.

Warnings: Smoking as a means of bonding, lack of care regarding personal space, likely some BL-themes somewhere in here but it can be ignored so long as ABC gum (cigarettes) never really mattered to you (because it never did to me so this thing is like straight-up Gen to me now).

Ashes, In a Place Without Light

"You stop in shock at the words you utter—

they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble

from being kept in the small, cramped dark inside you so long."

― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Weaving through the lingering crowds that littered the hallways of the Go Institute with only a cursory greeting thrown here and there, Ogata hoped the Go Weekly reporters would be too transfixed by the latest Touya versus Shindou match to pay him much notice. As good as Amano and him got along nowadays, there were just times when the current Honinbou title-holder didn't want to see his own comments splashed across the magazine in lieu of actual thoughtful discussion of the games themselves. What Ogata needed was a smoke break to think over the match himself, not Amano taking up his personal space and making notes about his every utterance.

Spying Akira surrounded by an entourage of reporters and Go enthusiasts further down the hallway, expression set in his usual Shindou-inspired intensity, Ogata casually detoured into the nearest empty study room. Akira would always deign to stay after to give Amano and his ilk any of his post-game thoughts, too polite and well-mannered to refuse, but the long-haired man was not above calling out to Ogata in order to distract the gaggle of reporters and basically sacrifice the Honinbou to the hounds.

Akiko would always quietly muse that he probably learned that from Ogata himself and it was karma. Ogata really wished the woman would stop blaming him for the more severe quirks in Akira's personality because obsession was not a learned trait and whatever was wrong with Akira was usually always completely Shindou's fault anyway. Even at 25 years of age, the two rivals easily degenerated into animate, furious discussions in the Touya parlor that left those around them sighing and shaking their heads in resignation.

Ogata decided the empty study room was as good as any other place to smoke, and once he opened the windows he could just enjoy the night view. The corridors would clear in about half an hour and even Ashiwara would get distracted by someone else - probably Saeki seventh-dan, the poor bastard - eventually and stop roaming the halls looking for his fellow Touya-school peer.

The door clambered open just as he'd pulled out a cigarette. The person rushing inside was both a surprise and not: Shindou Hikaru was known for avoiding prolonged interactions with the reporters and Go enthusiasts, as in some cases - especially with the advent of blogging - conversations on his playing style would circumvent back to sai. After winning the Meijin title for the first time a few years ago, one notorious fan of the mysterious online player had made quite the scene after the title match when he directly approached Shindou and just wouldn't let up. Privately, Ogata was amazed the man had even been able to continue his aggressive interrogation for as long as he did, what with Akira and Waya seventh-dan practically breathing fire by the time the accusations had turned insulting.

"Ogata-sensei," Shindou greeted cordially, as if he wasn't going into hiding. The restrained smile he flashed the older man spoke of desperation. Ogata could understand the sentiment: to Shindou, it was now a decision between choosing the lesser of two evils.

Shindou closed the door behind him. Clearly dealing with only one Sai-fan was better than dealing with a group of them, even if that fan was Ogata.

"Shindou-kun," Ogata drawled, his dry tone making his fellow title-holder wince. "Shouldn't you be out there helping Akira deal with the wolves?"

Shindou inexplicably relaxed, shoulders sagging and polite smile transforming into a mischievous grin. "Touya will be fine. Amano really likes him," he answered glibly. Translation: Touya can deal with them on his own and there's not a damn thing you can say that will make me go back out there.

Ogata snorted. "You realize he'll learn to outrun them one day."

"Why would he need to when you're always conveniently walking around nearby," Hikaru returned, moving further into the room. Wary of people noticing the room being occupied, Ogata had not bothered to turn on the lights and Shindou had kept it that way. The younger man moved through the shadows cast by the streetlight luminescence seeping in through windows with leisurely steps, unhurried as he drew closer in order to stand by the window and next to Ogata.

Back in his earlier pro days, Shindou would never have dared to get so close. He'd always scurried away at the sight of the bespectacled man, his abhorrence for any mention of his relation to sai as obvious to Ogata as it was to anyone else who interacted with Shindou regularly. He'd avoid getting into elevators or being alone with Ogata at first, but as the years drew by and Shindou came more into himself and his role as a Go professional, his skittishness faded. Even if Ogata dared to broach the subject of sai, Shindou deflected casually and consistently. Sometimes he didn't even bother to respond, just flashed the older man a smile that meant far too many things and absolutely nothing at all.

"You'll have to answer them eventually," Ogata added. He kept his tone even; it was not a threat, merely a statement of fact. The Honinbou did not clarify what Shindou would need to answer and to whom, but he did not need to - Shindou knew. It was obvious in the way the man didn't respond, leaning back against the window with a light sigh.

"Given enough time, they'll give up," Shindou mused after a long moment, wherein Ogata dug through his pockets for his lighter but came up empty-handed. He must have left it in the viewing room from when he was watching the match.

Ogata glared at the cigarette between his fingers, ineffective and useless without the necessary fire. "You mean you wish they'll give up," he bit out grumpily.

"I wish for plenty of things," Shindou admittedly quietly. Ogata hated the sound of it because it reminded him that Shindou wasn't always the bright flame that spurred on his peers but sometimes the ash left in the wake of a monstrous blaze. There was a fragility there that didn't belong on the face of someone who had become so strong within the confines of a Go board.

Shindou's lips split in a smile too wide to be sincere. "Mostly I wish that Touya will admit my brilliance and that he develops a better fashion sense, because I'm getting kind of tired of seeing pink-and-purple checkered cardigans every Sunday."

Ogata didn't respond. It was just like Shindou to bypass a serious conversation. The man only ever seemed to speak in deflections after intense games, his eyes veering from appreciation and wonder to a person haunted by the skeletons in his closet.

Shindou would assure everyone around him to his dying breath that he never knew sai, even as he played the legend's hands with every game.

"Sometimes I think the only reason you've continued to lie is because you've forgotten how to tell the truth," Ogata stated, words borne from temporary withdrawal and being too tired to truly care about niceties. Theirs was not a relationship built on formality but rather ruthlessness, a difference only appreciated so long as Ogata did not bother to restrain himself from asking as most of Shindou's friends had done.

Shindou did not freeze, even as his grin lessened into a weaker smile. There was nothing in his posture that suggested a line had been crossed. Still, still - there was something there in the way the man turned, one hand lifting up and holding Ogata's forgotten lighter delicately.

"The truth sounds so much uglier when spoken aloud," Shindou said, green eyes open and honest - an unsuitable expression on a man known for deception. Ogata lifted the cigarette to his lips automatically, eyes never straying from Shindou's face as the lighter flared to life in the younger man's hands. The flame caused shadows to flicker across Shindou's face and settle in those eyes, extinguishing only to be replaced by the smoke.

"Say it anyway," Ogata ordered softly.

Shindou's smile turned wry, something that was more agony than amusement twisted into the expression. "No," he replied, absurdly candid, standing close enough that he drew in smoke with every inhale. "The lies are what keep him alive."

Ogata breathed in the smoke, body relaxed despite what hung in the air between them. It was as he'd expected - Shindou was only honest when it didn't matter. When it really counted, that openness became shuttered and cold, revealing nothing but false pretense.

"Isn't he more than words?" Ogata asked.

Shindou smiled an ugly smile, taking the cigarette from his fingertips and bringing it up for a slow drag. "That's why the words don't matter."

The door slammed open on Shindou's next breath, Touya Akira stepping in and glaring at the blond-banged man in open accusation. "So this is where you- are you smoking?" the current Meijin title-holder demanded, the discontent wiped clear from his face by the encroaching storm.

Shindou was already grinning guiltily, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. "Shit, he caught me..." he muttered to himself with a worried lilt, handing the lit cigarette over to Ogata. Akira's eyes followed the exchange and he began to look increasingly incensed.

"Shindou, that is a terrible habit to pick up!"

"Geez, plenty of people do it! It's not a crime, Touya!"

"It doesn't matter! Do you plan on dying from lung cancer before we play the-"

"Ogata-sensei smokes and I don't see you harping at him about diseases!"

"If Ogata-sensei jumped off a bridge-"

The argument was mercifully cut off as Akira physically dragged a defensive Shindou out by the wrist and into a rapidly-emptying corridor. (Everyone had learned early on not to get between the two geniuses during one of their spats, it never bode well for the interloper.) Ogata watched them leave with a sigh, bringing the cigarette back up to his mouth.

It tasted like the half-truths that waited on the tip of Shindou's tongue and ashes. Ogata wondered which one Sai had become.

END

A/N: Because in my mind, adult!Hikaru is mature enough to realize he would never be able to tell the truth (and really, "I was haunted by this ghost" sounds rather terrifying if one never knew Sai) and having everyone bring up my dead friend over and over would mess me up too.

Questions, comments, concrit? Then...

Kindly drop a review.