AN: This was originally written for aoyagi as part of the fifthmus exchange on livejournal.

Summary: After the last match of the Honinbou tournament, Kuwabara takes Ogata out for a drink.

The stone landed on the goban with a confident 'pachi', the sound seeming loud in the otherwise silent room. Ogata drew back, looking at Kuwabara. Not that he'd be able to read anything from Kuwabara's face – if Kuwabara had gone into poker, he would have been filthy rich by now. Either Ogata had read deep enough that his confidence was justified or there was something he hadn't considered and Kuwabara would go above him, as he always had at this stage in the past. Seven attempts at the title and five of them Kuwabara had ended in the final game.

Ogata Juudan, Ogata Kisei... there was no reason he shouldn't be able to pass this hurdle. Kuwabara was great, yes - or he had been forty years ago - but the other titles had slipped through his fingers as the years went by. Now he was just clinging to the Honinbou title like a demented limpet.

There was a long silence, broken only by the tapping of Kuwabara's fingers on the edge of the goban. It was a sound Ogata had learned to tune out by his second attempt at the title.

Ogata took a sip of his tea. Calm, he had to appear perfectly calm. It had been a loss of composure that had lost him the title on two other attempts.

Kuwabara was stroking his chin, fingering his non-existent beard. The quirk of his eyebrow, the furrowed brow... if Ogata wasn't very much mistaken, he'd managed to surprise Kuwabara. There was a murmur over at the recorders' table that Ogata ignored, his eyes fixed on Kuwabara's face. It would only be Shindou, anyway.

Ogata didn't look at the goban: his move stood.

Kuwabara's gaze moved over the cluster of stones on the right and his other eyebrow shot up. So he had seen it, the trap that should, that would, finish it in about twenty two moves, if they played it out. He looked up from the goban with narrowed eyes, as though unsure if he was going to see Ogata or some stranger. Ogata schooled his face to blankness.

Kuwabara's move.

Kuwabara looked down again and the silence dragged out. Ogata finished his tea and handed the empty cup to an assistant. He removed his glasses and began cleaning the lenses with the cloth he kept in his jacket pocket for just that purpose. He wasn't Akira or Shindou, to stare relentlessly at the opponent until they caved to the inevitable.

Half an hour passed.

Then Kuwabara bowed his defeat. Ogata closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself to smile as he thanked Kuwabara for the game.

There was an awkward pause and then the others were upon them, Amano hovering as if not quite sure the time was right to ask for statements and Shindou pulling Akira over to get a better look at the goban.

"I'm telling you, Touya, it was this move here," Shindou said, pointing at one of Ogata's stones. Akira was looking doubtful, attention captured by a completely different area.

"Shall we discuss the game?" Akira asked, looking from from Ogata to Kuwabara. At least one of them had manners.

Neither Ogata nor Kuwabara had spoken yet. This wasn't part of the normal pattern, where Kuwabara would win and tease Ogata until they were down in the bar and Kuwabara was distracted enough to let him escape.

Kuwabara grunted. "It's clear enough," he said, though the sour note in his voice said that was only the case with hindsight. He jabbed a finger at the goban, the places Ogata himself would have highlighted. "Here and here, and then this move to finish it."

The two youngsters bent over the goban. Even right next to them, Ogata could only just hear the muttered 'if he were to...' 'yes, but then...'. He looked past them to Kuwabara. For a moment, it seemed Kuwabara was looking at him like he looked at Touya-sensei, like someone to be hunted down and defeated, like a rival and not just a young upstart.

Ogata blinked and Kuwabara was clambering to his feet, his customary amused expression back on his face as he reclaimed his walking stick.

"I owe you a drink, Ogata-kun," he said, the stick narrowly missing Shindou's head as he waved it Ogata's general direction. "There's a bar downstairs somewhere." Ogata rose to his feet smoothly and straightened his jacket, knowing that it was better to agree gracefully. He'd tried to refuse, the first few times, and had ended up in the bar anyway.

They walked down together in silence, leaving the others to discuss the game as they chose. In the end, the two of them sat next to each other at the bar. It was still early in the evening and there were only a few businessmen there, nursing pints as they tapped away at their mobiles.

"Can I help you, sir?" the young barman asked, addressing his question to Kuwabara.

"A whisky, if you would, and make sure it's the good stuff," Kuwabara said. "He'll have a martini, shaken not stirred."

Ogata scowled at him, hearing a quiet snicker from the barman before he managed to smother it. A moment and he realised that the boy was looking to him for confirmation. He nodded, pretending it had been his intention all along. At least it was a proper drink, not the cider that Ashiwara always tried to order for him. He glared at the barman: they'd better not ask him for ID, whatever their policy.

The drinks arrived with a clink of glasses on the polished counter.

"He's paying," Kuwabara said, pointing a thumb at him. Ogata sighed and pulled out his wallet.

"I knew that was coming," he muttered. Kuwabara cackled and Ogata relaxed a little. It didn't seem like Kuwabara was too broken up over his defeat. Perhaps there wouldn't be too much awkwardness – it would be a little painful to have to be polite to him until he got used to it. After all, Touya-sensei wasn't too old to rack him over the coals if he heard of any sort of disrespect for either Kuwabara or the title.

"I'll treat you later - wouldn't want you sloping off too early. Youngster like you should be able to hold his drink better than a relic like me, don't you think?" Kuwabara asked, and turned an eye on the barman. He stammered his agreement and Ogata attempted to focus his attention on his drink. Calm, he had to stay calm, and not let Kuwabara provoke him into either downing drinks or making a run for it. Those had happened after the third and fourth times he challenged for the title and he'd never quite lived either time down. Ashiwara still had the photos in an album somewhere, for one thing, and Kuwabara claimed to have the negatives.

There was a welcome silence while they sipped their drinks. Kuwabara looked around and squinted at the baseball scores on the screen on the far wall. When the sports bulletin finished, he turned back. Ogata pretended not to notice and won himself a minute or two more.

"So what's next for you, Ogata-sensei? You've got the title, defeated the top player-" Kuwabara glared into his glass and took a long sip "-are you going to settle down with some nice girl and get married? That would be a new challenge, train up an opponent for the next generation."

Ogata choked. Kuwabara helpfully thumped him on the back, no doubt leaving sticky fingerprints all over the jacket. That had happened before too. His drycleaner hadn't been impressed.

"I have no intention of getting married," he managed weakly, putting his glass safely on the counter. This wasn't part of the normal script.

"Well, if you're sure," Kuwabara said, apparently not caring. Ogata watched him suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. There was a pause. Ogata didn't dare fill it in. "Of course, should you change your mind I could introduce you to my granddaughter. She's a nice girl, pretty enough."

"Not interested," Ogata said flatly and took a gulp of his martini, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat.

"Young people these days," Kuwabara said with a crooked smile. "Not bothering with the marriage part of it. I dare say my girl would be happy enough doing it that way, too."

Ogata put his drink back on the counter rather more heavily than he'd planned. They watched some of it slosh over the top. The barman fumbled for a cloth. In a hotel like this, he probably wasn't expecting go professionals to be spilling their drinks all over everywhere.

"Oh dear," Kuwabara said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "Let me buy you another. I shouldn't have shocked you like that - I suppose I shouldn't have presumed to know your preferences. If you're really that attached to Ashiwara-kun, I'm sure we'll all be supportive. It's a modern society and all that, and it is in the Institute's Code of Practice."

It took Ogata a moment to work out what he was insinuating. Keep calm, he told himself, it'll look suspicious if you kill him now.

"I'm not dating Ashiwara," he managed, "or anyone else, for that matter, and I have no intention of dating anyone, either."

His glass was replaced with a fresh one. He took another sip, to give himself a moment to regain his composure. If the old man wasn't married, by all reports happily, he'd have some remarks of his own to make. As it was...

"Such a shame," Kuwabara said, almost sounding genuine. "You'd be an improvement on my son-in-law. He's no fun: plays appallingly and doesn't talk back, either."

"My heart bleeds for you," Ogata said, though he couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor man. At least he himself wasn't obliged to be polite to Kuwabara.

"Finish your drink, Ogata-kun."

Ogata obliged and was presented with a fresh one. He blinked. Surely this was a little fast but Kuwabara had most of a glass too, so he wouldn't be at too much of a disadvantage. Besides, he was allowed to get drunk every so often. Winning a title was a good reason.

"I'm treating this once but it's traditional for the current Honinbou to treat his predecessor on social occasions." Ogata looked at him suspiciously, trying to remember who Kuwabara's predecessor had been. It seemed like years since there had been anyone else. It must have been about the year that Touya-sensei won the Meijin tournament, so...

"Touya-sensei doesn't drink, you cheapskate," he said triumphantly, careful how he waved his drink so as not to get any on his suit. That was the problem with white - it stained so easily. Maybe he'd buy himself a new suit, a Honinbou suit. Ogata shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He had a feeling he'd drunk more than he'd been intending to by this point but couldn't really bring himself to care.

"You're not nearly drunk enough yet," Kuwabara muttered, waving imperiously. The barman scurried over.

"Want to buy me a drink too, Kuwabara-sensei?" came a hopeful voice from behind them. Ogata turned to look, maintaining his perch on the stool with some effort.

"He means that we're going out for ramen and we wondered if you'd like to join us," Akira said hastily. Was Akira legal to drink anyway? It didn't really matter. If Shindou wanted a drink, he could damn well pay for himself. Kuwabara didn't treat that often.

Kuwabara chuckled. "We're just fine here, Touya-kun, you can treat me another time. Shindou, you have one of those new-fangled camera phone things?"

Akira and Shindou looked at each other, as if they were communicating silently. Maybe Kuwabara had been looking at the wrong pair, if he was trying to set people up. Ogata watched them curiously but Shindou simply pulled the phone from his pocket and handed it over.

"It's the button on the side you want, old man," he said. "Give it back to me in the morning and I'll get them developed, if I get copies for myself."

"Deal."

Kuwabara and Shindou shared a wicked look, smiles mirroring almost perfectly, and then Akira tugged Shindou away.

"And don't touch my contact list!" Shindou yelled from across the room. Kuwabara's wave in response wasn't at all reassuring. Ogata snickered: he'd have to watch Shindou in the morning.

"Drink up, Ogata-kun," Kuwabara said, reaching over to spin the stool back around. Ogata grabbed at the seat with his free hand, highly tempted to swear at him. His glass was full again, somehow. Whatever, he thought, and took a drink, vaguely aware of a flash and a 'click' from beside him.

The third drink turned into the fourth and fifth surprisingly fast and after that Ogata lost count completely. Kuwabara always had a full glass too, so it was all even. At some point after he'd stopped caring what he did, so long as the suit stayed clean, Akira came in and, mumbling something about 'surprised at you, Ogata-san' towed him up to his room.

The next morning came immediately, Akira's concerned face in the night blurring into Akira's concerned face in the morning. Ogata wanted to know why Akira was there, given that he was supposed to be rooming with Shindou. A title-holder rated a private hotel room, he was sure.

"Ogata-san, the ceremony is in half an hour."

Ogata groaned and rolled over.

"The ceremony's in half an hour," Akira repeated, "and Father's making the presentation to you."

Ogata sat up abruptly, clutching his head and pulling a face at the taste in his mouth. Akira handed him a glass of water and dropped a painkiller in his hand. The suit had damn well better have survived the night because if he had to show up in a borrowed suit...

With a little help from Akira and Shindou, who showed up a few minutes later with breakfast on a tray and a large mug of coffee, Ogata made the ceremony on time, vaguely presentable. Kuwabara had a seat in the front row and Ogata looked daggers at him from his seat on the stage. He could have sworn that Kuwabara had matched him glass for glass, taking a full one whenever Ogata did, yet he looked as spry as he had the previous morning, no sign that he'd been up late, let alone of a hangover.

Ogata shook Touya-sensei's hand, bowed to the audience.

"You might say it's been a long time in coming," Ogata said to him, voice as quiet as he thought he could get away with so as not to aggravate the headache. With any luck only the front row would be able to hear. "I've been chasing this one for a long time. Chasing Kuwabara, too. You could say-" a significant look at Kuwabara and a wince at the sudden movement of his head "-that my current situation is entirely his fault and that I am as I am because of him. I'm quite looking forward to defending the title against him next year."

Kuwabara cackled in the front row amidst the polite applause that accompanied Ogata's return to his seat. Ogata smiled wryly and silently renewed his private vow to retire gracefully long before he started cackling. That had to be one of the early warning signs. He'd always wanted to grow up to be a pro, not an aging eccentric.