Selfish and Selfless Fronts
Warnings: Oga/Aki, which is a coupling which I feel is not recognized enough in English fandom. This is Ogata Seiji's point of view, and it is mostly his thinking and theories. PG-13 for child/adult theme. I'm sorry to say that I decided not to write a lemon for sake of ff.net regulations.
Inspirational Epigram: Selfishness and Unselfishness battle in man's heart. Almost always, Selfishness kills Unselfishness; and on the few occasions that the latter wins, it is still Selfishness. -- Xavier Forneret. Sans titre, par un homme noir, blanc de visage; [March].
***
I looked up from my novel as the doorbell rang. I glanced at the clock, and systematically put out my cigarette in the ashtray. It was almost 11 pm. Who would be calling on me at this hour? I certainly hoped it wasn't that woman again. She annoyed me no end, even after I had made my intentions clear that it hadn't been her conversation I'd attracted to at the time. In her anger, she had cried out that she knew it was only Go that I cared for. Still, it didn't stop her weekly visits.
Wait... I think she even has her own key. Shit.
So it couldn't have been her. That airhead would have simply let herself in and waltz in to "surprise" me. I had told her once, that I enjoyed being surprised, but I must have been drunk at the time to not realize she'd mis- interpret what I meant.
Of course getting caught off guard is a weakness that I dislike in myself. I certainly prefer to be the one in control of the situation; the level headed one that gave the other person the authority to sit or stand. And one didn't simply achieve that status without careful amounts of pre- calculating. He, or rather I, would have to consider all the situations, reactions and circumstances and then finally conjecture. When my move had been made, then would come the anxiety. I would anticipate the opposition's response, like a game. Would he place his piece where I had expected? To defend? To declare war?
Or would he take me off my guard completely, and place it ingeniously on a spot I had not considered carefully enough?
Although I had found this thrill in go, they were seldom now, those that could calculate further and deeper than I. I had risen higher and higher in the go world, which had it's disadvantages, despite the great honor. In rising, I had discovered the true nature of many players, and that their intentions were not always honorable.
There were those who were old and lecherous, whose skills did not serve them as they once did in their youth. Those players observed their experiences with the weak minded, and relied on their manipulating mind games to control the opposition. I'd even found that the older this player was, the more disgusting his tactics were. In fact, I could think of a particular example of an old crone that I despised.
There were those who were slowly becoming redundant in their wealth and honor. In their search for the Game of God, they had gradually side tracked off the path, and forgotten the true meaning of the game. They cared too much for their pride.
And then, there were those who would never amount to anything; their playing potential damned to a limit. They were the ones that were the most piteous, for it could be decades and decades wasted before it is realized. Yet, there is a fine line dividing these players from the final group.
Those that remained, were few. They were the ones still struggling to reach their true potential. And if the journey were to follow them to their afterlife; then so be it. The current holder of the Meijin title was one of these people. Even as he approached fifty, his game remained uncorrupted by the materialistic world. He continued to strive for the highest Game, the perfect Game. And behind him, behind us, would follow the new wave, who were quickly rising to our level. The Meijin's son, the improving insei Kurata, and perhaps there would be more. These players, were those I anticipated.
I finally got up when the doorbell rang a third time, and went to the door. Peering through the door hole, I recognized the visitor immediately. It was Touya Akira, son of the Meijin. He was a young, handsome looking child; well-mannered and polite. He wasn't a frequent visitor, even though our relationship had fallen somewhere past innocence. I squinted my eyes as I tried to make out his expression, but his face was hidden by his dark hair, and he seemed to be staring at the door mat. It was apparent that he was upset. Well, I thought tersely. That's not a surprise.
I opened the door and I was able to observe him more clearly. Without a doubt, he had been crying. His eyes were swollen, and his long hair was in a disarray; wet and clinging to his face. His clothing was rumpled and creased as if he had been sleeping in them. He held his jacket in his clenched fist, and I could see it was soaked from the rain. His eyes were shaded by long lashes, and his red lips were pressed into a firm line.
"Come in," I told him, and he nodded.
I asked if he would like something to drink. He declined with a shake of his head, but I went into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water anyway. When I returned, he was sitting on the couch, folded hands resting on his lap. His face had lost his earlier, distraught expression. Now he seemed to be contemplating something.
I wondered what had happened today. Perhaps it had something to do with any bullying at school. But we had resolved that before, and now it was only a thing of the past. Still, composed as he usually was, he was only a twelve year old boy struggling to hold out a front.
He didn't thank me when I placed the glass on the coffee table in front of him, alongside with a towel. I went to fetch my ashtray from my desk, and then seated myself on the other side of the couch. I lit up another cigarette and inhaled deeply. I knew that no amount of encouraging could press him to talk. He was like myself; he knew that things had to be done at their own pace. And so I waited, feeling the smoke seep in and out of my lungs, letting it drift in swirls from my nose.
For a moment, I briefly wondered when that tingling, burning sensation at the back of my throat had faded and disappeared.
Finally, he looked up and turned to face me. He spoke in a quiet voice. "I told mother that I would spend the night here, to discuss some things with you."
"Go?" I asked, not really expecting an affirmative. I'd thought I knew the answer before he'd said it, for had we not begun this conversation in the past with these very same words?
But to my surprise, he paused a moment before he answered. "It's what she thinks. But it's alright... there is some truth in that."
"I see," I replied.
"Is it alright, sensei?" he asked. He seemed nervous now, as if he did not know what to do now that he had changed the script. He was looking directly at me then. I could have laughed at how his large eyes were defined in such a childish attempt at seriousness. But instead, I tried not to stare at his face and throat as I turned to put out a half finished cigarette to distract myself.
"You know you are welcome at any time, Touya-kun."
I caught him smile then, yet bitterly. At that point, I would have been lying if I had said that I was not curious to know what had happened to distress him so... in spite of my carnal instincts. However, he was still hesitant to speak and then it occurred to me that perhaps the reluctance was for shame. I decided to change my tactics. Taking a deep breath, I took off my glasses and set them aside.
"Come here," I ordered.
I was relieved to see he didn't hesitate. Sometimes I wondered if he was too dependent on, well, something... something he was accustomed to. He moved gracefully, and then he was seated beside me, waiting. I swiftly slid one arm behind his slender waist, and the other beneath his thighs. I lifted him so that his spread legs were kneeling over my lap, one on either side.
He was looking down at me now, his eyes hot, deep green swirls. At times like these, it disturbed me how serious and passionate he could seem. It was as if he had the potential to control me one day, to swallow me whole if I was careless. It almost frightened me, as if this were a premonition of something larger, larger than what immoral thing we were about to do. I placed my hands quickly on his waist before he could notice my sudden insecurity. I deftly made it so that he was sitting fully on my lap, and he laid his head against my chest.
At the familiar proximity, his calm resolve finally crumbled. It was nothing more than a soft breath at first, and then he was trembling. He slowly clenched his small fists around my shirt, and buried his face into my shoulder. I barely made out his muffled sobs, and I stroked his back, trying to soothe his rough breathing. His shaking, warm and soft body was so alluring, but I knew I couldn't rush things. He had lost hold of his mature composure and I was reminded again that he was just a child.
"I lost a game today," he whispered into my ear.
I did not reply, and continued to caress his back and hair lightly. I touched my lips to his shoulder and he smelled of sweat and rain.
"It wouldn't have mattered if I had lost to my father," he continued obliviously. "Or to you, sensei. Or... any player who cared for the game!" His voice hardened at that last statement.
"Who did you lose to?" I asked quietly. His grip on my shirt loosened slightly, and he leaned back so that he could look directly into my face.
"A boy the same age as me. He played like no one I have ever seen. Sensei... he easily destroyed my game in less than twenty moves. But he didn't even understand the importance of Go."
"A twelve year old child like yourself..." I repeated more to myself than to him. It was a moment before the statement settled in and then I wondered.
Akira did not lie nor could he be mistaken. The boy he had played with could not have cheated, because Akira's eyes and ability were much too skilled to allow for it to happen. But for him to defeat Akira's go easily... in less than twenty moves no less. It would be no simple feat, even for a titled player like myself.
Then a thought occurred to me. Could it be that there would be another young prodigy yet to join the Go world? It was an intriguing idea.
I tried not to let my excitement show in my voice. "Would you... would you like to replay the game to show me?"
I thought I detected a shadow cross over Akira's face before he cast his gaze down again. "... I'm sorry, sensei."
"It's... alright," I said, though it obviously wasn't. He must have heard the bluntness in my answer, for he encircled my neck with his lithe arms.
"I don't want to show anyone that game until I defeat him, sensei... Sensei, I'm sorry."
"I understand," I replied in a more convincing tone. Though of course, I was lying again. I comforted my disappointed self with illusions that perhaps that mysterious game had been a fluke.
All thoughts were diminished, however, when he placed his soft lips carefully on mine. Akira was not a confident child, but he knew how to use body to his advantage. And for that, I enjoyed taking him when he offered himself to me, again and again. I responded to his kiss, and his arms around my neck tightened as his mouth yielded to my intruding tongue. I ran it over the roof of his mouth, and allowed it to mingle with his small slick tongue.
I kissed his neck, fumbling with the buttons of his damp shirt. His cheek was leaning on my jaw, and I could hear his breath quickening under my touch.
"Please sensei... tell me what I should do..." he breathed.
Whether he had been referring to the current circumstances or to the game he had played, I was not certain. I pulled off my shirt, and it joined his on the ground. And as always, I could never help but stare at his nakedness. His bare upper body was so angelic and fragile looking that I almost felt the shame in what we were doing.
But when he placed his hands meekly on my hardness, stroking carefully as he would a kitten, all thoughts of betrayal were reduced to no more than dust.
***
He was sleeping in my arms, his pale, lean body made sticky by our sweat and fluids. His face was like one of the sleeping chereubs painted in the Italian convents. I had to wonder whether it was really him who sliced the heads off of so many go players. I stroked his rounded face, feeling the softness and warmth of his skin. He was my beloved and innocent child.
And yet, there was another child like him, waiting to be born to the go world.
With one hand, I managed to slip a cigarette between my lips and flick the lighter open, inhaling as the flame singed the end. I did not seriously believe that the game had been a fluke. Akira had the judgement of his father, and could not have made a mistake. It was not possible. If only Akira would show me the game so I could see and confirm it for myself. But he was as secretive as the devil and would not be able to be persuaded. I could only take his word for it, that there would be another.
Another addition to the new wave... I could not help but shudder in excitement at that thought. Because that new wave would serve a very significant point. It was the key most crucial to the future of Go and of course... the future of My Self. My Selfish Self.
I thought of the Meijin again, who was slowly, ever so slowly, walking toward the Move of God. With each game he played, he climbed one step higher. But the stairway was an almost infinite flight. Almost.
He was not young, and I doubted he would ever touch his goal. He lacked something, I knew, he lacked someone. Though my game was yet to equal his, he and I were stranded in the same sinking boat. Those who seeked this perfect move needed more than just their game to continue the journey.
The go world could not recognize their beloved player's fatal flaw. Even the Meijin was blind to it, and sometimes I wondered about the stupidity of it all. Was it not obvious? It was a simple puzzle with a simple answer that even a child could have understood.
If the Meijin should have ever reach the top, should ever reach the doors of the Move of God, he would find that it would be locked. No matter how loud he would knock or pound, it would not open. The doors would not be opened without the key.
And the key was... well, the only word to describe it is 'Motivation'. A rival for instance, an eternal rival would serve as sufficient motivation. Someone who had an equal, yet essentially improving game and a reason for competition. No other qualities were of importance. It was a pity, I suppose, for in my opinion, Honinbou Shuusaku was probably the only player in history that had yet the possessed skills that would rival Meijin Touya. How unfortunate that they were from different time eras. Well, it would not be the current Meijin who reached the Perfect Hand then.
Perhaps Touya Meijin had long realized this catharsis. Perhaps he was waiting for that player to appear, or perhaps he knew that no man of our era existed to be his eternal rival. What a fool! He may be a genius, but he is a mindless genius. For the Meijin would only look at the past or the present, but never the future. I am not so useless as him. I would not sit around waiting for my for my life and Go to be wasted away into dirt. I would make things happen, and I would plan so that everything would eventually fall in place.
I would consider all the situations, reactions and circumstances and then finally; conjecture.
I had not met this child that had defeated Touya Akira's Go. Nor had I witnessed the game I longed to see. But some people do not realize there is something more to Go than simply extreme probability and calculation. There is one thing more. It is a fundamental sense that every Go player must have. And that is Intuition. He must have instinct, a sixth sense even. It was the Paramount, and it would influence all foresight. Even if all odds were against my intuitive, I would still make my move...
It was my intuition that pushed me to the final decision of my plan.
From Japan, a new wave of Go players had been borne. I suppose it could be thought of as 'fresh blood' to feed the starving beasts that were the existing Go players. In any case, in terms of potential, I had come to see that without any doubt, Touya Akira stood in the front line. /&si.
His skill was so frightening that I made it a point to convince the Meijin to disallow Akira from studying as an insei. He would only crush the morale of the other child players. Akira was also forbidden to join any Go clubs at school, or participate in any child tournaments. Instead, at his young age, he was already called for tutorage and demonstration at large Go events. The media and Go world could not get enough of this young, child star. /& rea.
In spite of it all however, I understood that Akira still lacked that Eternal Rival. I had thought that he would be older before he would find such a Go player, for I didn't think he had the maturity to understand the importance of one. And then I realized that this rival he had unknowingly picked out would be the perfect person. This player was not an adult like all the other players Akira associated with. And not only that, he had been angered by that boy's 'ignorance' of Go, and that could only add fuel to the fire. /& ci.
If I pulled a few strings here and there, if I put in a word or two, if I pushed them further little by little... Soon, they would not need my prompting. They would soon realize what they were to each other, themselves. And then, it would be like clockwork. I would have to wait, but they would be my new thrill. /&con
It's worth it! I wanted to shout. I understood it all too well. One day, I would be sitting on the highest stair of the Go world, waiting for the others to come after me. Alone. Alone! I would be alone unless I prepared strategically for it in the present. And, if everything would work as I conjectured, there would be whole new wave of players, worthy of a challenge for me. If everything went the way I planned, no man would overtake me.
I felt a sense of dread when that thought finished. It was an uncomfortable feeling, like Doubt. It felt like I was breathing air as thick as water. My intuition. I clenched my teeth and decided, for the first time, to ignore it. No, I told myself confidently. It's my destiny. No man would overtake me. I would only be pushed closer, inch by inch, towards that door.
Right?
Perhaps... just perhaps... my wish would come true.
I tightened my arms around Akira as he stirred in his sleep, and I placed my lips on his soft hair. I wondered what he was dreaming about. I wondered if he was dreaming what I always dreamed; of the future and all it's glory. For surely, there is no thirst like ambition.
Glancing at the clock one final time, I lifted him in my arms, and carried him inside.
***
I remembered something that had happened once, long ago.
The children at school had locked him in the storage room. The teachers did not find him until after school had been dismissed. In tears, he had begged his teachers to take him to my home instead of his parents'. When they arrived, I assured them that I was his guardian and that I would see him home myself. They thanked me and left, apologizing.
I joined him beneath the blanket of my double bed. He'd stopped crying. He shifted closer and placed his head on my pillow, and I could do naught but stroke his tear stained cheek and kiss him.
"Do you love me, sensei?" he asked me bluntly.
I kiss him again and smile against his lips. "I do. You are very important to me."
"I'm glad sensei does... I don't care what anybody else thinks. Nothing else matters to me."
"Except go?" That was intended to make him smile, but he only shifted closer to me.
"I don't know," he breathed against my chest.
I wanted to frown at that statement, but I couldn't manage it.
"I... love you, sensei."
I didn't know what to think.
***
FIN
I had this fic sitting in my hard drive for a long time, because it was unfinished. I finally decided to write the ending tonight, but I feel that it may be a little rushed as opposed to the early slow pace.
Please let me know what you think!! All feedback is welcome.
saku saku
Warnings: Oga/Aki, which is a coupling which I feel is not recognized enough in English fandom. This is Ogata Seiji's point of view, and it is mostly his thinking and theories. PG-13 for child/adult theme. I'm sorry to say that I decided not to write a lemon for sake of ff.net regulations.
Inspirational Epigram: Selfishness and Unselfishness battle in man's heart. Almost always, Selfishness kills Unselfishness; and on the few occasions that the latter wins, it is still Selfishness. -- Xavier Forneret. Sans titre, par un homme noir, blanc de visage; [March].
***
I looked up from my novel as the doorbell rang. I glanced at the clock, and systematically put out my cigarette in the ashtray. It was almost 11 pm. Who would be calling on me at this hour? I certainly hoped it wasn't that woman again. She annoyed me no end, even after I had made my intentions clear that it hadn't been her conversation I'd attracted to at the time. In her anger, she had cried out that she knew it was only Go that I cared for. Still, it didn't stop her weekly visits.
Wait... I think she even has her own key. Shit.
So it couldn't have been her. That airhead would have simply let herself in and waltz in to "surprise" me. I had told her once, that I enjoyed being surprised, but I must have been drunk at the time to not realize she'd mis- interpret what I meant.
Of course getting caught off guard is a weakness that I dislike in myself. I certainly prefer to be the one in control of the situation; the level headed one that gave the other person the authority to sit or stand. And one didn't simply achieve that status without careful amounts of pre- calculating. He, or rather I, would have to consider all the situations, reactions and circumstances and then finally conjecture. When my move had been made, then would come the anxiety. I would anticipate the opposition's response, like a game. Would he place his piece where I had expected? To defend? To declare war?
Or would he take me off my guard completely, and place it ingeniously on a spot I had not considered carefully enough?
Although I had found this thrill in go, they were seldom now, those that could calculate further and deeper than I. I had risen higher and higher in the go world, which had it's disadvantages, despite the great honor. In rising, I had discovered the true nature of many players, and that their intentions were not always honorable.
There were those who were old and lecherous, whose skills did not serve them as they once did in their youth. Those players observed their experiences with the weak minded, and relied on their manipulating mind games to control the opposition. I'd even found that the older this player was, the more disgusting his tactics were. In fact, I could think of a particular example of an old crone that I despised.
There were those who were slowly becoming redundant in their wealth and honor. In their search for the Game of God, they had gradually side tracked off the path, and forgotten the true meaning of the game. They cared too much for their pride.
And then, there were those who would never amount to anything; their playing potential damned to a limit. They were the ones that were the most piteous, for it could be decades and decades wasted before it is realized. Yet, there is a fine line dividing these players from the final group.
Those that remained, were few. They were the ones still struggling to reach their true potential. And if the journey were to follow them to their afterlife; then so be it. The current holder of the Meijin title was one of these people. Even as he approached fifty, his game remained uncorrupted by the materialistic world. He continued to strive for the highest Game, the perfect Game. And behind him, behind us, would follow the new wave, who were quickly rising to our level. The Meijin's son, the improving insei Kurata, and perhaps there would be more. These players, were those I anticipated.
I finally got up when the doorbell rang a third time, and went to the door. Peering through the door hole, I recognized the visitor immediately. It was Touya Akira, son of the Meijin. He was a young, handsome looking child; well-mannered and polite. He wasn't a frequent visitor, even though our relationship had fallen somewhere past innocence. I squinted my eyes as I tried to make out his expression, but his face was hidden by his dark hair, and he seemed to be staring at the door mat. It was apparent that he was upset. Well, I thought tersely. That's not a surprise.
I opened the door and I was able to observe him more clearly. Without a doubt, he had been crying. His eyes were swollen, and his long hair was in a disarray; wet and clinging to his face. His clothing was rumpled and creased as if he had been sleeping in them. He held his jacket in his clenched fist, and I could see it was soaked from the rain. His eyes were shaded by long lashes, and his red lips were pressed into a firm line.
"Come in," I told him, and he nodded.
I asked if he would like something to drink. He declined with a shake of his head, but I went into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water anyway. When I returned, he was sitting on the couch, folded hands resting on his lap. His face had lost his earlier, distraught expression. Now he seemed to be contemplating something.
I wondered what had happened today. Perhaps it had something to do with any bullying at school. But we had resolved that before, and now it was only a thing of the past. Still, composed as he usually was, he was only a twelve year old boy struggling to hold out a front.
He didn't thank me when I placed the glass on the coffee table in front of him, alongside with a towel. I went to fetch my ashtray from my desk, and then seated myself on the other side of the couch. I lit up another cigarette and inhaled deeply. I knew that no amount of encouraging could press him to talk. He was like myself; he knew that things had to be done at their own pace. And so I waited, feeling the smoke seep in and out of my lungs, letting it drift in swirls from my nose.
For a moment, I briefly wondered when that tingling, burning sensation at the back of my throat had faded and disappeared.
Finally, he looked up and turned to face me. He spoke in a quiet voice. "I told mother that I would spend the night here, to discuss some things with you."
"Go?" I asked, not really expecting an affirmative. I'd thought I knew the answer before he'd said it, for had we not begun this conversation in the past with these very same words?
But to my surprise, he paused a moment before he answered. "It's what she thinks. But it's alright... there is some truth in that."
"I see," I replied.
"Is it alright, sensei?" he asked. He seemed nervous now, as if he did not know what to do now that he had changed the script. He was looking directly at me then. I could have laughed at how his large eyes were defined in such a childish attempt at seriousness. But instead, I tried not to stare at his face and throat as I turned to put out a half finished cigarette to distract myself.
"You know you are welcome at any time, Touya-kun."
I caught him smile then, yet bitterly. At that point, I would have been lying if I had said that I was not curious to know what had happened to distress him so... in spite of my carnal instincts. However, he was still hesitant to speak and then it occurred to me that perhaps the reluctance was for shame. I decided to change my tactics. Taking a deep breath, I took off my glasses and set them aside.
"Come here," I ordered.
I was relieved to see he didn't hesitate. Sometimes I wondered if he was too dependent on, well, something... something he was accustomed to. He moved gracefully, and then he was seated beside me, waiting. I swiftly slid one arm behind his slender waist, and the other beneath his thighs. I lifted him so that his spread legs were kneeling over my lap, one on either side.
He was looking down at me now, his eyes hot, deep green swirls. At times like these, it disturbed me how serious and passionate he could seem. It was as if he had the potential to control me one day, to swallow me whole if I was careless. It almost frightened me, as if this were a premonition of something larger, larger than what immoral thing we were about to do. I placed my hands quickly on his waist before he could notice my sudden insecurity. I deftly made it so that he was sitting fully on my lap, and he laid his head against my chest.
At the familiar proximity, his calm resolve finally crumbled. It was nothing more than a soft breath at first, and then he was trembling. He slowly clenched his small fists around my shirt, and buried his face into my shoulder. I barely made out his muffled sobs, and I stroked his back, trying to soothe his rough breathing. His shaking, warm and soft body was so alluring, but I knew I couldn't rush things. He had lost hold of his mature composure and I was reminded again that he was just a child.
"I lost a game today," he whispered into my ear.
I did not reply, and continued to caress his back and hair lightly. I touched my lips to his shoulder and he smelled of sweat and rain.
"It wouldn't have mattered if I had lost to my father," he continued obliviously. "Or to you, sensei. Or... any player who cared for the game!" His voice hardened at that last statement.
"Who did you lose to?" I asked quietly. His grip on my shirt loosened slightly, and he leaned back so that he could look directly into my face.
"A boy the same age as me. He played like no one I have ever seen. Sensei... he easily destroyed my game in less than twenty moves. But he didn't even understand the importance of Go."
"A twelve year old child like yourself..." I repeated more to myself than to him. It was a moment before the statement settled in and then I wondered.
Akira did not lie nor could he be mistaken. The boy he had played with could not have cheated, because Akira's eyes and ability were much too skilled to allow for it to happen. But for him to defeat Akira's go easily... in less than twenty moves no less. It would be no simple feat, even for a titled player like myself.
Then a thought occurred to me. Could it be that there would be another young prodigy yet to join the Go world? It was an intriguing idea.
I tried not to let my excitement show in my voice. "Would you... would you like to replay the game to show me?"
I thought I detected a shadow cross over Akira's face before he cast his gaze down again. "... I'm sorry, sensei."
"It's... alright," I said, though it obviously wasn't. He must have heard the bluntness in my answer, for he encircled my neck with his lithe arms.
"I don't want to show anyone that game until I defeat him, sensei... Sensei, I'm sorry."
"I understand," I replied in a more convincing tone. Though of course, I was lying again. I comforted my disappointed self with illusions that perhaps that mysterious game had been a fluke.
All thoughts were diminished, however, when he placed his soft lips carefully on mine. Akira was not a confident child, but he knew how to use body to his advantage. And for that, I enjoyed taking him when he offered himself to me, again and again. I responded to his kiss, and his arms around my neck tightened as his mouth yielded to my intruding tongue. I ran it over the roof of his mouth, and allowed it to mingle with his small slick tongue.
I kissed his neck, fumbling with the buttons of his damp shirt. His cheek was leaning on my jaw, and I could hear his breath quickening under my touch.
"Please sensei... tell me what I should do..." he breathed.
Whether he had been referring to the current circumstances or to the game he had played, I was not certain. I pulled off my shirt, and it joined his on the ground. And as always, I could never help but stare at his nakedness. His bare upper body was so angelic and fragile looking that I almost felt the shame in what we were doing.
But when he placed his hands meekly on my hardness, stroking carefully as he would a kitten, all thoughts of betrayal were reduced to no more than dust.
***
He was sleeping in my arms, his pale, lean body made sticky by our sweat and fluids. His face was like one of the sleeping chereubs painted in the Italian convents. I had to wonder whether it was really him who sliced the heads off of so many go players. I stroked his rounded face, feeling the softness and warmth of his skin. He was my beloved and innocent child.
And yet, there was another child like him, waiting to be born to the go world.
With one hand, I managed to slip a cigarette between my lips and flick the lighter open, inhaling as the flame singed the end. I did not seriously believe that the game had been a fluke. Akira had the judgement of his father, and could not have made a mistake. It was not possible. If only Akira would show me the game so I could see and confirm it for myself. But he was as secretive as the devil and would not be able to be persuaded. I could only take his word for it, that there would be another.
Another addition to the new wave... I could not help but shudder in excitement at that thought. Because that new wave would serve a very significant point. It was the key most crucial to the future of Go and of course... the future of My Self. My Selfish Self.
I thought of the Meijin again, who was slowly, ever so slowly, walking toward the Move of God. With each game he played, he climbed one step higher. But the stairway was an almost infinite flight. Almost.
He was not young, and I doubted he would ever touch his goal. He lacked something, I knew, he lacked someone. Though my game was yet to equal his, he and I were stranded in the same sinking boat. Those who seeked this perfect move needed more than just their game to continue the journey.
The go world could not recognize their beloved player's fatal flaw. Even the Meijin was blind to it, and sometimes I wondered about the stupidity of it all. Was it not obvious? It was a simple puzzle with a simple answer that even a child could have understood.
If the Meijin should have ever reach the top, should ever reach the doors of the Move of God, he would find that it would be locked. No matter how loud he would knock or pound, it would not open. The doors would not be opened without the key.
And the key was... well, the only word to describe it is 'Motivation'. A rival for instance, an eternal rival would serve as sufficient motivation. Someone who had an equal, yet essentially improving game and a reason for competition. No other qualities were of importance. It was a pity, I suppose, for in my opinion, Honinbou Shuusaku was probably the only player in history that had yet the possessed skills that would rival Meijin Touya. How unfortunate that they were from different time eras. Well, it would not be the current Meijin who reached the Perfect Hand then.
Perhaps Touya Meijin had long realized this catharsis. Perhaps he was waiting for that player to appear, or perhaps he knew that no man of our era existed to be his eternal rival. What a fool! He may be a genius, but he is a mindless genius. For the Meijin would only look at the past or the present, but never the future. I am not so useless as him. I would not sit around waiting for my for my life and Go to be wasted away into dirt. I would make things happen, and I would plan so that everything would eventually fall in place.
I would consider all the situations, reactions and circumstances and then finally; conjecture.
I had not met this child that had defeated Touya Akira's Go. Nor had I witnessed the game I longed to see. But some people do not realize there is something more to Go than simply extreme probability and calculation. There is one thing more. It is a fundamental sense that every Go player must have. And that is Intuition. He must have instinct, a sixth sense even. It was the Paramount, and it would influence all foresight. Even if all odds were against my intuitive, I would still make my move...
It was my intuition that pushed me to the final decision of my plan.
From Japan, a new wave of Go players had been borne. I suppose it could be thought of as 'fresh blood' to feed the starving beasts that were the existing Go players. In any case, in terms of potential, I had come to see that without any doubt, Touya Akira stood in the front line. /&si.
His skill was so frightening that I made it a point to convince the Meijin to disallow Akira from studying as an insei. He would only crush the morale of the other child players. Akira was also forbidden to join any Go clubs at school, or participate in any child tournaments. Instead, at his young age, he was already called for tutorage and demonstration at large Go events. The media and Go world could not get enough of this young, child star. /& rea.
In spite of it all however, I understood that Akira still lacked that Eternal Rival. I had thought that he would be older before he would find such a Go player, for I didn't think he had the maturity to understand the importance of one. And then I realized that this rival he had unknowingly picked out would be the perfect person. This player was not an adult like all the other players Akira associated with. And not only that, he had been angered by that boy's 'ignorance' of Go, and that could only add fuel to the fire. /& ci.
If I pulled a few strings here and there, if I put in a word or two, if I pushed them further little by little... Soon, they would not need my prompting. They would soon realize what they were to each other, themselves. And then, it would be like clockwork. I would have to wait, but they would be my new thrill. /&con
It's worth it! I wanted to shout. I understood it all too well. One day, I would be sitting on the highest stair of the Go world, waiting for the others to come after me. Alone. Alone! I would be alone unless I prepared strategically for it in the present. And, if everything would work as I conjectured, there would be whole new wave of players, worthy of a challenge for me. If everything went the way I planned, no man would overtake me.
I felt a sense of dread when that thought finished. It was an uncomfortable feeling, like Doubt. It felt like I was breathing air as thick as water. My intuition. I clenched my teeth and decided, for the first time, to ignore it. No, I told myself confidently. It's my destiny. No man would overtake me. I would only be pushed closer, inch by inch, towards that door.
Right?
Perhaps... just perhaps... my wish would come true.
I tightened my arms around Akira as he stirred in his sleep, and I placed my lips on his soft hair. I wondered what he was dreaming about. I wondered if he was dreaming what I always dreamed; of the future and all it's glory. For surely, there is no thirst like ambition.
Glancing at the clock one final time, I lifted him in my arms, and carried him inside.
***
I remembered something that had happened once, long ago.
The children at school had locked him in the storage room. The teachers did not find him until after school had been dismissed. In tears, he had begged his teachers to take him to my home instead of his parents'. When they arrived, I assured them that I was his guardian and that I would see him home myself. They thanked me and left, apologizing.
I joined him beneath the blanket of my double bed. He'd stopped crying. He shifted closer and placed his head on my pillow, and I could do naught but stroke his tear stained cheek and kiss him.
"Do you love me, sensei?" he asked me bluntly.
I kiss him again and smile against his lips. "I do. You are very important to me."
"I'm glad sensei does... I don't care what anybody else thinks. Nothing else matters to me."
"Except go?" That was intended to make him smile, but he only shifted closer to me.
"I don't know," he breathed against my chest.
I wanted to frown at that statement, but I couldn't manage it.
"I... love you, sensei."
I didn't know what to think.
***
FIN
I had this fic sitting in my hard drive for a long time, because it was unfinished. I finally decided to write the ending tonight, but I feel that it may be a little rushed as opposed to the early slow pace.
Please let me know what you think!! All feedback is welcome.
saku saku