Isumi stood off to one side, watching from afar as Hikaru and Waya exited the Go school building side by side. It was unexpected, how well they were getting along. Isumi hadn’t quite expected them to become friends so easily. Waya still thought Hikaru was a Go novice who needed to get serious, and Hikaru was still his general none-too-swift self, a little lacking in common sense sometimes but as happy and bright as always. Somewhere every personality had to merge with another, right?
Then Waya turned and caught Hikaru in a kiss, and Isumi winced. Stupid merging personalities.
It wasn’t that he was upset that Waya and Hikaru were two boys who had somehow discovered a mutual attraction. Isumi knew all about that. And it wasn’t that he was upset that they were happy together. He was just nursing an ever-growing jealousy of Hikaru and the way he always managed to fall into a mud puddle and come up smelling like roses. He barely been able to move up through the ranks of the Insei but managed it anyway, and now he was happily locking lips--or clasping hands, as the case was now that the two other boys had found breathing a necessity--with the one person who Isumi had found himself having fuzzy feelings towards.
Isumi had known he was in love with Waya for a good two months before Hikaru had made his move. Or before Waya had made his move, Isumi didn’t know who had initiated things, just that things had been initiated before he had any chance of gathering up his courage and confronting Waya. In retrospect, keeping silent seemed to have been a very bad idea.
And now, as he watched Hikaru and Waya happily walk off down the street, Isumi felt the jealousy inside grow a bit bigger. He had, he decided, taken Waya for granted. It had been a given in his mind, that Waya would always be around and unattached, occasionally annoying and loud-mouthed and generally being bothersome. But in a good way. In a way that one missed him when he was gone.
Isumi stood on the opposite end of the street and watched as Hikaru and Waya shared another quick, almost furtive kiss, and mentally lamented his own silence. He couldn’t help but wonder--melodramatically, really--if anyone else in the world felt quite the same burning pain he felt when he saw the two boys kiss.
He certainly would have taken this thought back if he had taken a moment to look away from the happy couple and cast his eyes up the street a ways. If he had, he might have seen Touya Akira standing nearby, staring in wide-eyed shock at Hikaru and Waya as they walked along together.
And if he had looked, Isumi might have recognized the expression that briefly crossed Akira’s face before the younger boy turned and ran the other way as fast as he could go.
Touya Akira’s day had started out no different from usual. Wake up, think about Go, get dressed, think about Go some more, eat breakfast, play Go, go to school and think about Go in the off periods, walk home, play more Go, then take a walk while thinking about Go. It was a very simple schedule, at least in Akira’s mind, and one he generally followed unless unforeseen complications came up, such as a broken alarm clock meaning he had to skip less important things like breakfast and concentrate on only the most essential tasks, like playing Go. Nothing of the sort had happened, though, so he was having a fairly balanced day which swung between trivial things like eating and going to school, and more important things. Go, for instance.
Akira hadn’t expected anything much to happen that day. He had been walking along the sidewalk, thinking about Go as usual and trying not to run into things. He had nearly mastered the art of navigating a street while concentrating completely on Go games in his head, and had managed to reach a level wherein he only had to look up once every ten steps or so to be sure that he wasn’t about to run into a telephone pole or a trash can or a random pedestrian. He had been a few moves from winning his own little mental Go game when he looked up for a random object check, and then had seen a sight that had, inexplicably, managed to do what nothing else could. It wiped all thoughts of Go from his mind and pulled him securely into the parts of the real world that had nothing to do with Go.
Akira had glanced up and seen none other than Shindou Hikaru standing several feet in front of him, oblivious to Akira’s presence. And as Akira watched in wide-eyed shock, Hikaru had leaned in close to the vaguely familiar boy walking beside him, and then the two had kissed.
Akira didn’t know why the sight had stunned him. He didn’t care about Shindou, not at all. What was Shindou to him but another rival, and not a very dangerous one at that? He certainly didn’t care a lick about the aspects of Shindou’s romantic life.
Or at least that was what Akira told himself as he turned on his heel and fled the other way, his heart pounding. He barely even noticed how far he was running or how fast. He just knew that he wanted to run away and pretend that he hadn’t seen Shindou kissing someone else.
Why do I even care? Akira thought wildly. Exhaustion overtook him with unexpected suddenness; his body wasn’t used to running long distances. He collapsed to his knees in an alley, putting one hand to his mouth as if he were about to be sick. I don’t care. Why should I care? It’s just Shindou. I don’t even like Shindou. He’s my rival. I want to play against him again, that’s all. Why should I care that I saw kissing someone else?
What ‘else’? The desperately in denial part of Akira’s brain shot back at the part that had just uttered that last mutinous thought. Shindou was just kissing somebody. Saying ‘kissing somebody else’ implies that I’m upset because he was kissing someone who isn’t me. And I certainly don’t want him to kiss me. Where did you get that ridiculous idea anyway? Now stand up and walk over to the Go Salon and concentrate on the useful things like Go. Shindou is of no importance.
“Shindou is of no importance,” Akira repeated quietly, but he didn’t move. The words sounded firm enough in his head, but when he spoke them aloud they sounded woefully timid and upset. Were there tears in that voice?
Certainly not. Because I don’t care about Shindou. Akira nodded desperately, eager to convince himself. But he still didn’t stand up. He sat on the cold concrete, hard brick at his back, with small rocks and litter around him, and wrapped his hands around his knees, waiting for his chest to stop hurting. Why was it hurting? Maybe he was sick. That had to be it. He had to be sick. Because Akira wasn’t ready to face the other possibility.
Why aren’t I getting up? Akira wondered, a strange detached feeling settling over him. It’s smelly and disgusting over here. I’m going to get my uniform dirty, and then Mother and Father might be annoyed with me. Mother will have to do more laundry, it’s unkind of me to sit here. I should just be able to get up and leave, right? Nothing’s holding me here, and people are waiting for me somewhere. So why won’t my legs move?
Akira managed a passable glare at his legs, but they still didn’t move. He wondered if maybe he was simply too weak to get up. He had skipped lunch, after all, since he had been too busy thinking about Go to eat.
There’s something comforting. Akira laid his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. I’ll think about Go and then I’ll be fine. Everything will be fine if I just think about Go.
In his mind’s eye, Akira saw a Go table, with stones laid out. There were two in particular that Akira concentrated on, a white with a black diagonal from it. It was black’s turn. A hand reached out from the darkness that was his opponent, but it seemed to be two hands. One was slender and held the stone with the light touch of a professional. The other hand that actually placed the stone was small and held it clumsily, like a beginner...
The 15-16 kosumi.
Shindou!
Akira’s eyes snapped open. Why that game? Why now, of all times, did he have to think about that game? The second game he had lost....to Shindou. The old Shindou, the one who was always in his mind, hovering at the edge of his thoughts like a gnat. Akira had swatted at it a few times, because, after all, one always swats at a gnat. And, like a gnat, it remained right where it was, hovering and buzzing and demanding attention.
Just....just stop thinking about it. Stop right now. Shindou means nothing to me. He’s just a rival. It’s all he’s ever been to me. I’m not thinking about him all the time, I’m not! I don’t care about him! He--he--
He kissed someone who’s not me. Akira shook his head wildly. And I don’t care! I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care!
Smothering a whimper that threatened to escape from his lips, Akira pushed himself up on trembling legs and walked home as fast as he could go, managing, somehow, not to think of anything at all. His father looked up from a Go game as Akira swept inside without a word and went into his room, closing the door and collapsing on the bed, all the while telling himself how much he didn’t care.
Akira remained in his room for hours, repeating the words over and over in his head like a mantra. His parents didn’t even realize that there was something wrong until Akira didn’t show up for his father’s usual Go study group. Akira missing dinner was a regular occurrence around the Touya household, but Akira missing a chance to play Go suggested nothing less than a debilitating illness.
“Akira-san, your father’s students are here. Aren’t you coming out?” Touya Akiko peered into her son’s room and was surprised to find him lying on the bed with his head in his hands. “Akira-san?”
“I--I’m not in the mood right now.” Akira’s reply was nothing short of baffling. Akiko walked carefully over to his bedside and attempted to feel his forehead. Akira irritably squirmed away from her.
“Leave me alone,” he muttered, not at all like his usual unfailingly polite self.
“Are you sick?” Akiko wondered. “Maybe you should go to the doctor, Akira-san. Or I can call the hospital if you want me to.”
“I’m fine,” Akira said, his voice muffled by the fact that he was half-biting his pillow. “Just leave me alone. I don’t want to play Go right now.”
Akiko was struck dumb by the statement and allowed her shock to carry her out of the room. As she closed the door softly behind her, she wondered if maybe she should call the hospital anyway, just in case.
As a consequence of his own odd behavior and sudden disinterest in doing anything beyond lying curled up in bed, Akira didn’t go to school the next day. He stayed home and had breakfast in bed and stared distractedly out the window while his mother fluffed his pillows and fussed with the blankets, all the while suggesting that perhaps a visit to the doctor’s was in order.
Maybe I should just go to the hospital, Akira thought gloomily, slumping in bed. The lack of usual posture only increased his mother’s fussing. I must be sick. There is certainly no other logical reason why I should be feeling this way, unless I’m sick. I must have caught something while I was outside. Why else would my chest hurt and my stomach feel strange? He deliberately ignored the fact that these feelings only arose whenever he recalled the kiss between Shindou and Waya. I should try to play Go. I’m sure I’ll feel better if I play Go. I always feel better when I play Go. This was marginally true. Once when he was seven Akira had stayed home with a fever of 104 degrees. He spent the entire day in bed playing Go with the firm belief that as long as he concentrated on the game, he wouldn’t throw up. By the next day he was nearly delirious, but at least he had stopped throwing up.
Except this time whenever I try to play Go I think of...him... Akira closed his eyes and shook his head. I’m doing that again! Why am I doing that? Every time I try not to think about Shindou I end up thinking about him. I need to think about something that has nothing to do with Shindou, and then I’ll be fine. This, of course, was a problem, because thoughts of Shindou and Go were related, and Akira was unused to thinking of anything besides Go. Staring around the walls of his room didn’t help, since they were covered mostly by things having to do with Go. His sheets and wallpaper were monochromatic and drab, and offered no help. He briefly tried concentrating on the clouds outside, but his first thought was that the one off to the right looked a lot like a Go piece, and so that train of thought was abandoned, having passed too close to Shindou territory for Akira’s tastes.
Akira sighed heavily and his mother put a hand to his forehead, muttering something about bronchitis. Akira promptly wondered if there was a polite way to tell her to leave him alone already. He wasn’t in the best of moods, and her constant fussing was of no help whatsoever.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t call a doctor?” Akiko asked for what had to be the sixth time that hour when Akira finally decided to get out of bed and get dressed. He barely managed to shoo her out of the room before putting on his clothes and preparing to leave. He had decided to go for a walk to clear his head.
Akira managed to get out of the house without incident and began walking in a rather distracted fashion towards the spot he had seen Shindou at the day before.
I’ll go watch him again, Akira decided. And I will watch him kiss that other boy again and this time I will feel nothing. There is no reason for me to feel like this, and it’s going to disrupt my Go game if I allow it to continue. I spent all morning in bed, so I should not be feeling any nausea or exhaustion or--or whatever it was I felt yesterday. That will show me that there is nothing wrong and I will return home and play Go without having to think about Shindou again.
When he reached the building from the day before Shindou was nowhere in sight, so Akira situated himself in the shadow of a building on the opposite end of the street and waited.
His legs were aching by the time Shindou and the other boy emerged from the Go school. However, despite the pain, Akira stood up a bit taller as the boys exited, trying to get a better look at them.
Then Shindou and the other boy kissed again, and Akira felt his legs give out under him.
“Stop that!” he muttered desperately to himself, trying to stand. He couldn’t. “This--this is stupid! I don’t care about Shindou!” Akira was amazed to discover that tears were forming in his eyes, and he angrily wiped them away. Across the street, Shindou and his companion were walking off together, chatting and holding hands. Akira suddenly felt very sick.
“I--I’m not upset,” Akira whispered, one hand on the wall as he forced himself to his feet. “I’m not upset at all. Why can’t I just stop thinking about this?”
“Touya Akira?” At the sound of his name being spoken Akira’s head snapped up. A slightly older boy with dark hair stood beside him, watching him intently.
“Y-yes?” Akira replied, and felt angry that his voice was still shaking. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Isumi Shinichiro. I saw you watching Shindou and...Waya...” Akira caught the wistful tone in Isumi’s voice as he spoke Waya’s name and wondered at it.
“Yes,” Akira replied, not sure what to say. He felt compelled to add, “I wasn’t watching Shindou. Because I don’t care about him.”
“Uh-huh.” Isumi’s tone was disbelieving, and he was looking at Akira with a strange combination of interest, pity, and camaraderie. “Touya....you and Shindou...”
“Both play Go, nothing more,” Akira said swiftly. “I told you, Shindou is nothing to me. His strength is nowhere near mine. And I certainly don’t care that he kissed someone else.” You said ‘someone else’ again! Akira’s brain screamed, and Akira clapped his hand over his mouth. “I meant, someone,” he lamely corrected himself.
“Touya, I think I know how you feel--“
“What do you mean, ‘how I feel?’” Akira shot back, surprised at his own rudeness. “I don’t feel anything towards Shindou.”
“I think you do,” Isumi said thoughtfully. He paused for a moment, thinking, then said, “Why don’t you come grab a snack with me? I think we need to talk.”
“About what?” Akira asked warily.
“About how much you ‘don’t care’ about Shindou,” Isumi said with a hint of a smile.
Akira blinked at him in confusion. He doesn’t really think I care about Shindou, does he? He’s an idiot if he does. Shindou is inconsequential. I don’t feel anything towards him. I certainly don’t wish that it was me he was kissing...or that it was me he was looking at....I certainly don’t care that I saw him first...or that it’s me he’s chasing after...
Fifteen minutes later Akira sat across from Isumi at a table in a small ice cream cafe. Isumi had a small bowl of ice cream in front of him, and Akira had a vanilla milkshake. Isumi had eaten his ice cream in silence, but Akira hadn’t touched his milkshake, except to swirl the straw around distractedly.
“What did you ask me here to talk about?” Akira questioned softly, not looking up.
“I told you,” Isumi replied, not unkindly. “I saw how you were looking at Shindou, Touya. I look at Waya the same way.” He shrugged. “I thought maybe we could help each other.”
“I wasn’t looking at Shindou,” Akira said quickly, but he was still looking away. “I already told you, he doesn’t concern me.”
“Then why were you waiting for him?” Isumi said.
“I--I wasn’t waiting for him,” Akira stuttered. “I was--I was--“
“Waiting to see Shindou,” Isumi said. “I was looking for Waya earlier, and I saw you standing there in the shadows, watching the door. And I know there’s really only one person you’d probably be waiting for. Shindou mentioned something about the two of you--“
“He did?” Akira’s head snapped up enthusiastically. Isumi smiled at him and Akira looked down again, blushing in shame at his sudden eagerness. “I--I mean, oh, he did.”
“You can stop hiding it, Touya,” Isumi told him. “I can see it written plainly on your face. You love Shindou, don’t you?”
“Of--of course not!” Akira sputtered. “That’s ridiculous! I--I couldn’t--I don’t--“
“Then why were you waiting for him?” Isumi’s voice was strangely gentle.
“I--I just--“ Akira closed his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was nearly a whisper. “I saw them yesterday, Shindou and--and that other boy. And when I saw them kissing I just felt--I’m not sure what I felt. My chest hurt and I ran away and collapsed. I felt like--like someone had stomped on my chest. It hurt, and I didn’t know why. I just knew that suddenly all I wanted to do was lock myself in my room and never come out. I was certain that I must be sick. There wasn’t---there isn’t any other explanation. I have to be sick. I’ve been lying in bed all day feeling awful, so I have to be sick. And--and I decided that I would go wait for Shindou and see him kiss that other boy again, and if I felt nothing, then everything would be okay. Then I’d be sure that what I felt before was just--just me being sick. And then I saw them again and....and...” Akira glanced plaintively up at Isumi. “I am sick, aren’t I? I felt so awful when I saw them...there’s no other reason why I’d feel so badly, right?”
“Touya....” Isumi shook his head, smiling sympathetically. “You really don’t understand, do you? You’re in love with Shindou. I know you are because I felt the same way when Waya first told me that he and Shindou were dating. I felt like my insides had been twisted up and ripped out, and I just wanted to hide. Every time I see them together, I feel that same pain you do. Because when you love someone, it’s hard to see them with someone else, and it hurts when you realize that someone else swooped in because you couldn’t tell the one you love how you feel. You’re not sick, Touya, trust me. You’ve just never had your heart broken before.”
“Never had....my heart broken...” Akira repeated, staring distractedly into his milkshake. “That can’t be right, can it? I can’t be in love with Shindou. I’m sure I’d remember it if I fell in love with him one day.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Isumi laughed. “Touya, falling in love isn’t something that you can necessarily just decide on one day. It just happens and then one day you figure out that you’ve loved all along. Shindou used to brag about how you were interested in him, even though he’s nowhere near as good a player as you are. Is that true?”
“Well....yes, but...” Akira squirmed a bit in his seat and wondered if he should just leave before he had to think any further.
“I see. So it is true.” Isumi shook his head again. “Touya, haven’t you ever wondered why you were so interested in him? Is it really just because you think he has potential, like Shindou told us you did? Or do you feel something more?”
“I--I feel.....” Akira sighed and closed his eyes. “He’s my rival. I want to play him--I sometimes wish he’d come back and be like the old Shindou. And he might even beat me, but the match would be worth it. And sometimes--sometimes I think about if he’s thinking about me. Is he still running after me? I’m afraid that if I slow down too much he’ll overtake me, but--but I’m also afraid that if I run too fast he’ll fall behind and give up the chase, and then I’ll never see him again. And then sometimes I wonder...” Akira felt his cheeks growing hot and his words dropped to a whisper. “I wonder if he likes me. How does he think of me? Am--am I just his rival too? Am I his friend? Does he even think of me at all? Maybe he even hates me. Maybe he thinks that I’m selfish and arrogant and awful, and all he wants to do is beat me and forget about me. And--and I’m surprised, too, because I think about how he feels about me and I discover that--that I really want him to like me. I want him to be thinking about me all the time the way I think about him. I want him to keep looking ahead for me because even while I’m running, I’m waiting for him. I’m concentrating on my path, but I’m watching for him, too. I’m waiting for him to look up and see me and smile.” He glanced back up at Isumi. “Is that how you feel when you’re in love?”
“Something like that,” Isumi replied thoughtfully. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for Akira, who was looking very hurt and confused. “Touya, I know you feel pretty upset right now, but you’re not the only one. I--I was surprised at how I felt when I realized that I was in love with Waya. But I was stupid, and I didn’t tell him, and now it’s too late. Yours isn’t the only heart that’s broken.”
“Mmmm.” Akira stared fixedly downwards, looking thoughtful. Finally, he glanced up. “Why don’t you just tell Waya-san how you feel now? Just because he’s....with...Shindou, doesn’t mean that--“
“Yes it does,” Isumi interrupted, looking half-annoyed and half-sad. “I can’t interfere now, Touya. It--it wouldn’t be right. Waya’s made his choice, now I’m just going to have to live with it.” He sighed. “I don’t want to ruin their happiness just because of my selfishness. I should’ve spoken up before. I just have to accept that.”
“I don’t!” Akira jumped to his feet, feeling suddenly energized. “Right? If--if I really do love Shindou like you keep telling me, then I should tell him how I feel, shouldn’t I? Why did you tell me all this if you didn’t want me to talk to Shindou?”
“I told you this because I thought it might make you feel better if you knew that you weren’t alone in your feelings,” Isumi said, a little surprised by Akira’s sudden passionate outburst. “Touya, you’re in the same boat as me. We both waited too long to show our feelings, and it would be just as selfish for you to tell Shindou as it would be for me to--”
“Then I’ll be selfish!” Akira stated. “Isumi-san, you said I’m in love with Shindou. Maybe--maybe I am.” Akira swallowed hard. “So--so if my heart’s broken because he’s with someone besides me, it’s stupid to just sit around feeling bad. I can’t concentrate on anything lately because I’m always thinking about him. I can’t even think about Go because I keep remembering the times I’ve played him! If I tell him how I feel, then maybe I can forget about him and concentrate on more important things than--than this stupid pain in my chest that keeps making me want to cry.” Akira felt tears well up in his eyes and wiped them away angrily.
“Your heart isn’t important?” Isumi raised an eyebrow. “Touya, this may be hard for you to believe, but there are other important things in the world besides Go...”
“No, there isn’t!” Akira said stubbornly. “Everything else is stupid and pointless. Me being in love is stupid and pointless and I don’t like it at all and I just want to move on and forget about Shindou! And--and if I have to be selfish to do it, then I will! I’ve been selfish before...” A brief spasm of pain crossed Akira’s face as he spoke, and he shook his head. “I’m going to talk to Shindou tomorrow and then I’m going to forget about all of this and go back to playing Go and not being in love! I--I don’t need to be in love! It’s pointless! So I’ll be selfish and then I can just forget this ever happened!” Without another word, Akira turned and ran out of the cafe. Isumi stared thoughtfully after him.
“Touya Akira, huh?” he said after a moment. Isumi shook his head sadly. “You may know everything there is to know about Go, Touya, but you don’t know a thing about human emotions. You can’t just forget about the one you love.” Isumi closed his eyes and lowered his head into his hands. “Believe me...I know.”
Two days later, Akira approached Haze Junior High carefully, as if afraid to even approach the school. He had barely been able to play Go at all in the past few days and it was making him irritable. Even worse was the growing sense of dread that had been lying in the pit of his stomach, the fear that perhaps even talking to Shindou wouldn’t make the pain in his heart stop. That talking might even make him hurt worse.
“Talking to Shindou has to make me feel better,” Akira told himself firmly. “I’ll just tell him that--that I’ve been feeling strangely towards him and I want to know how he feels about me. And then he’ll say....I don’t know what he’ll say.” Akira chewed nervously on his lower lip. “What if he says he hates me? No, he can’t say that. He--he probably doesn’t feel anything like love towards me. And once I know that he doesn’t love me I’ll stop loving him and I can start playing Go again without having to worry about if I’m thinking of him or not.”