Touya's Pride, Part 7 of 11 (NC-17, fic)
Jan. 2nd, 2009 06:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenna_c_tanTitle: Touya's Pride (part 7 of 11)
Author: Ravenna C. Tan
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Pairing: Hikaru/Akira eventually, Akira/others, sort of (you'll see)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Non-commercial fanfic.
Summary: Touya Akira loses a match and suffers a crisis of faith. Could wily old Kuwabara-sensei have the answer? Or is the answer to be found in Touya's eternal rival, Shindou Hikaru?
Warnings: This is not exactly your typical fluffy Aki/Hika fic. There is what could be termed cross-gen/chan, and also psychological manipulation as part of the plot. The sexuality is graphic, but not gratuitous. Touya is 16. Spoilers for the series, also.
A/N: I posted an "intro" to Hikaru no Go for those who want to read the fic without watching or reading the whole series, on LJ and IJ.
Part One is here: LJ and IJ
Part Two: LJ and IJ
Part Three: LJ and IJ
Part Four: LJ and IJ
Part Five: LJ and IJ
Part Six: LJ and IJ
Part Seven
When I woke in the morning, he was gone. For a moment I was distressed, then I remembered--his tutoring session.
The second shock of the morning came when I checked my email. There was one from my father. That in itself was a surprise, but the content of the message was also a jolt.
It read:
Akira -- Your mother and I will be extending our stay another week. Your mother also lost her cell phone in a taxi, but our hosts have graciously set me up with the Internet. Their phone number is below, if you need to reach us. Your mother says if you need her to come home, call. She's looking over my shoulder, of course, as I type this. Now she's telling me don't call, just email back, and nagging me to remember to check for messages.
There. Now she's engaged in conversation with our host's wife and I can get to the real point of this message. The only thing that pains me about all this travel is that we no longer play our daily match. If you have no tutoring session or match this Wednesday, I would like us to play through the Internet.
I nearly jumped out of my chair. Father missed our matches? I missed them, too, but I'd never dared say anything. He knew my Go better than anyone on Earth, except maybe Ogata-san--well, and now maybe Shindou, but Shindou had not seen me play all my life, only the recent years.
Father would be able to tell me if I were stronger or weaker, if I had developed bad habits or deepened my reading.
Not only that, over the Internet, he wouldn't be able to see me.
You can't be serious, said a voice in my head. You're not really going to play him with a... you can't. You'll die of mortification even if he never knows...
But I wouldn't die of mortification. I was growing both bold and also desensitized to embarrassment. Which was, I think, the lesson Kuwabara-sensei set out to teach me.
Usually low ranking pros played their matches on Wednesdays, and high ranking pros played their matches on Thursdays -- which was when I would be meeting Ogata-san. I emailed back immediately that a match Wednesday morning would be fine, as I only had tutoring to do in the afternoon.
Then I went to put the plug in for the day. It was Monday, and Kuwabara-sensei would undoubtedly be appearing at the door at some point. By now I had learned to hear the sound of the taxi pulling up outside, and could easily get to the Goban in time to be waiting for him, so long as I did not have to pause to take off my clothes. I threw on a light yukata only and played a game on the Internet just to remind myself how the interface worked. It wouldn't do to ruin the match with a botched click.
After a light lunch I went down to the Go room and opened the screen to the garden. The weather was mild and I liked the gentle sound of the fountain, the water trickling and the bamboo deer chaser knocking as it filled with water and then spilled. I decided to study one of Shuusaku's old kifu, recreating the game stone by stone.
I'm not sure when it was I fell asleep. The warm air from outside, the sound of the fountain... I dreamed that I was playing Shuusaku and when the match was over, I took one of his hands in mine and examined his fingers. They looked just like Shindou's, and I was about to remark on this to him when the sound of the door sliding open woke me with a jolt.
Kuwabara-sensei was there, looking down on me from what seemed very far above me. His smile seemed a bit grim.
"Kuso!" I swore, sat up quickly, and tossed the yukata away. What was I thinking? I bowed my head. "Sensei...!"
He chuckled. "Ah, Akira-kun. You try so very hard to be perfect all the time. How your mother must love you for that." He patted my head like one would a child, or a dog. I realized I was trembling. "It's another part of your fear, though. Another thing you worry about, that people will see your flaws, will see something other than your facade."
"But, but sensei, you said you wanted me to..."
"Now, now, what is this? Interrupting your sensei? Not so perfect after all, then, hm?"
I could feel I was blushing furiously now, and was grateful for the curtain of my hair.
He went on. "As I was saying, if all you ever want people to see is perfection, then you must never let them get too close, or they will see the flaws."
"Yes, sensei. I won't."
He made an exasperated noise. "No, no, you miss my point. I mean you must let people closer to you. It isn't healthy to hold everyone at arm's length just because you fear they will see the real you. The truth is often that they see the real you anyway, and so keeping them at a distance accomplishes nothing."
I looked up, trying to make sense of what he said. "But wasn't it you who wrote 'never show your true face to your opponent, for he cannot attack what he does not know is there?'"
He made another sound, like a laugh that exploded accidentally in his mouth before it could get out. "Not everyone is an opponent," he said, in a sing-song.
I thought about the people I knew. Shindou? Ogata-san? My father? Waya-kun? And on and on. They were all opponents, except for my mother and perhaps Ichikawa-san. My parents' marriage suddenly began to make sense--I'd never been able to figure out why father had married a woman who knew nothing about Go. "But they are," I finally said, not sure why I was being so argumentative.
"Ehhh. It must be hard for you. Ogata-kun was like an uncle to you, wasn't he? And now you must fight him. Think about what it must be like for him, to have the tiger cub he played with as a kitten, suddenly roaring in his ear, fangs and claws out."
I blinked. Not only had I never considered what it must be like for Ogata-san to face me now, it suddenly dawned on me that Father's abrupt retirement from professional Go came not long after I had gone pro.
We had never played each other as true opponents. Had he not wanted to force the distance between us that would have required? I thought of his email this morning. Go was something that connected us. I had never before realized how it could divide.
Shindou...
"Now," Kuwabara-sensei went on. "Let us go over the matches Ogata and I played for the Honinbou title." He settled in the seat across from me and took both bowls of stones; he would recreate the games from memory. But as I leaned forward slightly in anticipation, he looked at me with a slight frown. "Hm. You're expecting some kind of scolding for your infraction, for failing to follow my orders. Hmm." He scratched his head. "Ah, I know." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small sheaf of papers held together with two small clips. He removed the clips and set them on the Goban in front of me.
I stared at them a moment, then picked them up, not sure what he wanted me to do with them.
"Here and here," he said, his smile toothy as he gestured to his own chest.
My eyes went wide with shock, but I did not protest. My fingers shook a little as I opened one, settled it over my left nipple, and then slowly let it go.
Oh. I sucked in a breath through my teeth more because I was expecting it to hurt than because it actually did. It didn't feel that bad at all. Maybe this was one of those things like the smallest plug, that wouldn't challenge me that much. I attached the other and then sat back.
He nodded and then I forgot about them, absorbing myself in the replaying of the matches, learning all I could about Ogata-san's weaknesses and strengths.
I'm not sure how much later it was that Kuwabara-sensei yawned and stretched. "That's enough for tonight. Tomorrow I'll come earlier in the day. You'll be attending the reception at the Palace Hotel?"
"Yes, sensei."
"Excellent! I will be there, too. I will expect you to pay close attention to Ogata-kun, looking for anything you may use to your advantage, of course."
"Of course, sensei."
He stood and then snapped his fingers. "The clips, my boy. Give them back."
"Ah, yes, I'd forgotten about them." I reached up with both hands and released them simultaneously, then screamed. They hurt! They burned and I let the clips fall, pressing my palms against my nipples. The flesh was instantly sore, almost like a sore lip, like the ones I got when I was five or six and we'd gone on a trip to the mountains. We were at a ski resort where Father was playing a match, and I played outside in the snow, in the cold, licking my lips over and over again until they were so chapped I could not eat dinner that night.
He clucked his tongue. "Perhaps we left them on a little too long? Though it looks like some of you enjoyed it."
He leaned over to pick up the dropped clips himself and chuckled as he looked pointedly at the erection jutting from my lap. A moment later I heard him leave, the sound of him putting his shoes on reaching my ears.
"See you in the morning, Akira-kun...!" he called from the front door.
"Wait! What time..." But he was already gone.
Damn. I didn't want a repeat of that experience, so I knew I had better be ready and waiting naked by the Goban when he arrived. How early would he come? I cursed him and went to put the yukata back on, then discovered that the fabric rubbing against my sore nipples was both arousing and excruciating at the same time. I cursed him again, hung the yukata up, and decided to take care of the erection--at least then I'd be relaxed enough to take the plug out for the night, too.
I set the alarm for five a.m. just in case, and then I lay on my side on my futon, stroking myself slowly.
I imagined that Shindou's hand was rubbing gentle circles on my back. Then he pressed up against me and his hand found its way to my cock, just as gentle, just as insistent.
"Shindou..."
I imagined his voice. Is this what you're really like, Touya?
Yes! Yes, this is...
I came with a cry, making a mess of the sheets, then reached down to pull the plug out.
But I want to be inside you, he said. I want to touch the real you.
I pulled it partway out, then thrust it partway back in, imagining something else entirely. In, out, in, out... Shindou...!
I don't know how long I was caught up in the fantasy. Long enough that I came again, surprising myself when I realized how close I was, and then fucking myself desperately with the tip of the plug while I jerked off once more. I came so hard I nearly passed out, and I was asleep quickly after that, all thought of dinner or playing more on the Internet wiped out.
(continue to part eight!)
Author: Ravenna C. Tan
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Pairing: Hikaru/Akira eventually, Akira/others, sort of (you'll see)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Non-commercial fanfic.
Summary: Touya Akira loses a match and suffers a crisis of faith. Could wily old Kuwabara-sensei have the answer? Or is the answer to be found in Touya's eternal rival, Shindou Hikaru?
Warnings: This is not exactly your typical fluffy Aki/Hika fic. There is what could be termed cross-gen/chan, and also psychological manipulation as part of the plot. The sexuality is graphic, but not gratuitous. Touya is 16. Spoilers for the series, also.
A/N: I posted an "intro" to Hikaru no Go for those who want to read the fic without watching or reading the whole series, on LJ and IJ.
Part One is here: LJ and IJ
Part Two: LJ and IJ
Part Three: LJ and IJ
Part Four: LJ and IJ
Part Five: LJ and IJ
Part Six: LJ and IJ
Part Seven
When I woke in the morning, he was gone. For a moment I was distressed, then I remembered--his tutoring session.
The second shock of the morning came when I checked my email. There was one from my father. That in itself was a surprise, but the content of the message was also a jolt.
It read:
Akira -- Your mother and I will be extending our stay another week. Your mother also lost her cell phone in a taxi, but our hosts have graciously set me up with the Internet. Their phone number is below, if you need to reach us. Your mother says if you need her to come home, call. She's looking over my shoulder, of course, as I type this. Now she's telling me don't call, just email back, and nagging me to remember to check for messages.
There. Now she's engaged in conversation with our host's wife and I can get to the real point of this message. The only thing that pains me about all this travel is that we no longer play our daily match. If you have no tutoring session or match this Wednesday, I would like us to play through the Internet.
I nearly jumped out of my chair. Father missed our matches? I missed them, too, but I'd never dared say anything. He knew my Go better than anyone on Earth, except maybe Ogata-san--well, and now maybe Shindou, but Shindou had not seen me play all my life, only the recent years.
Father would be able to tell me if I were stronger or weaker, if I had developed bad habits or deepened my reading.
Not only that, over the Internet, he wouldn't be able to see me.
You can't be serious, said a voice in my head. You're not really going to play him with a... you can't. You'll die of mortification even if he never knows...
But I wouldn't die of mortification. I was growing both bold and also desensitized to embarrassment. Which was, I think, the lesson Kuwabara-sensei set out to teach me.
Usually low ranking pros played their matches on Wednesdays, and high ranking pros played their matches on Thursdays -- which was when I would be meeting Ogata-san. I emailed back immediately that a match Wednesday morning would be fine, as I only had tutoring to do in the afternoon.
Then I went to put the plug in for the day. It was Monday, and Kuwabara-sensei would undoubtedly be appearing at the door at some point. By now I had learned to hear the sound of the taxi pulling up outside, and could easily get to the Goban in time to be waiting for him, so long as I did not have to pause to take off my clothes. I threw on a light yukata only and played a game on the Internet just to remind myself how the interface worked. It wouldn't do to ruin the match with a botched click.
After a light lunch I went down to the Go room and opened the screen to the garden. The weather was mild and I liked the gentle sound of the fountain, the water trickling and the bamboo deer chaser knocking as it filled with water and then spilled. I decided to study one of Shuusaku's old kifu, recreating the game stone by stone.
I'm not sure when it was I fell asleep. The warm air from outside, the sound of the fountain... I dreamed that I was playing Shuusaku and when the match was over, I took one of his hands in mine and examined his fingers. They looked just like Shindou's, and I was about to remark on this to him when the sound of the door sliding open woke me with a jolt.
Kuwabara-sensei was there, looking down on me from what seemed very far above me. His smile seemed a bit grim.
"Kuso!" I swore, sat up quickly, and tossed the yukata away. What was I thinking? I bowed my head. "Sensei...!"
He chuckled. "Ah, Akira-kun. You try so very hard to be perfect all the time. How your mother must love you for that." He patted my head like one would a child, or a dog. I realized I was trembling. "It's another part of your fear, though. Another thing you worry about, that people will see your flaws, will see something other than your facade."
"But, but sensei, you said you wanted me to..."
"Now, now, what is this? Interrupting your sensei? Not so perfect after all, then, hm?"
I could feel I was blushing furiously now, and was grateful for the curtain of my hair.
He went on. "As I was saying, if all you ever want people to see is perfection, then you must never let them get too close, or they will see the flaws."
"Yes, sensei. I won't."
He made an exasperated noise. "No, no, you miss my point. I mean you must let people closer to you. It isn't healthy to hold everyone at arm's length just because you fear they will see the real you. The truth is often that they see the real you anyway, and so keeping them at a distance accomplishes nothing."
I looked up, trying to make sense of what he said. "But wasn't it you who wrote 'never show your true face to your opponent, for he cannot attack what he does not know is there?'"
He made another sound, like a laugh that exploded accidentally in his mouth before it could get out. "Not everyone is an opponent," he said, in a sing-song.
I thought about the people I knew. Shindou? Ogata-san? My father? Waya-kun? And on and on. They were all opponents, except for my mother and perhaps Ichikawa-san. My parents' marriage suddenly began to make sense--I'd never been able to figure out why father had married a woman who knew nothing about Go. "But they are," I finally said, not sure why I was being so argumentative.
"Ehhh. It must be hard for you. Ogata-kun was like an uncle to you, wasn't he? And now you must fight him. Think about what it must be like for him, to have the tiger cub he played with as a kitten, suddenly roaring in his ear, fangs and claws out."
I blinked. Not only had I never considered what it must be like for Ogata-san to face me now, it suddenly dawned on me that Father's abrupt retirement from professional Go came not long after I had gone pro.
We had never played each other as true opponents. Had he not wanted to force the distance between us that would have required? I thought of his email this morning. Go was something that connected us. I had never before realized how it could divide.
Shindou...
"Now," Kuwabara-sensei went on. "Let us go over the matches Ogata and I played for the Honinbou title." He settled in the seat across from me and took both bowls of stones; he would recreate the games from memory. But as I leaned forward slightly in anticipation, he looked at me with a slight frown. "Hm. You're expecting some kind of scolding for your infraction, for failing to follow my orders. Hmm." He scratched his head. "Ah, I know." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small sheaf of papers held together with two small clips. He removed the clips and set them on the Goban in front of me.
I stared at them a moment, then picked them up, not sure what he wanted me to do with them.
"Here and here," he said, his smile toothy as he gestured to his own chest.
My eyes went wide with shock, but I did not protest. My fingers shook a little as I opened one, settled it over my left nipple, and then slowly let it go.
Oh. I sucked in a breath through my teeth more because I was expecting it to hurt than because it actually did. It didn't feel that bad at all. Maybe this was one of those things like the smallest plug, that wouldn't challenge me that much. I attached the other and then sat back.
He nodded and then I forgot about them, absorbing myself in the replaying of the matches, learning all I could about Ogata-san's weaknesses and strengths.
I'm not sure how much later it was that Kuwabara-sensei yawned and stretched. "That's enough for tonight. Tomorrow I'll come earlier in the day. You'll be attending the reception at the Palace Hotel?"
"Yes, sensei."
"Excellent! I will be there, too. I will expect you to pay close attention to Ogata-kun, looking for anything you may use to your advantage, of course."
"Of course, sensei."
He stood and then snapped his fingers. "The clips, my boy. Give them back."
"Ah, yes, I'd forgotten about them." I reached up with both hands and released them simultaneously, then screamed. They hurt! They burned and I let the clips fall, pressing my palms against my nipples. The flesh was instantly sore, almost like a sore lip, like the ones I got when I was five or six and we'd gone on a trip to the mountains. We were at a ski resort where Father was playing a match, and I played outside in the snow, in the cold, licking my lips over and over again until they were so chapped I could not eat dinner that night.
He clucked his tongue. "Perhaps we left them on a little too long? Though it looks like some of you enjoyed it."
He leaned over to pick up the dropped clips himself and chuckled as he looked pointedly at the erection jutting from my lap. A moment later I heard him leave, the sound of him putting his shoes on reaching my ears.
"See you in the morning, Akira-kun...!" he called from the front door.
"Wait! What time..." But he was already gone.
Damn. I didn't want a repeat of that experience, so I knew I had better be ready and waiting naked by the Goban when he arrived. How early would he come? I cursed him and went to put the yukata back on, then discovered that the fabric rubbing against my sore nipples was both arousing and excruciating at the same time. I cursed him again, hung the yukata up, and decided to take care of the erection--at least then I'd be relaxed enough to take the plug out for the night, too.
I set the alarm for five a.m. just in case, and then I lay on my side on my futon, stroking myself slowly.
I imagined that Shindou's hand was rubbing gentle circles on my back. Then he pressed up against me and his hand found its way to my cock, just as gentle, just as insistent.
"Shindou..."
I imagined his voice. Is this what you're really like, Touya?
Yes! Yes, this is...
I came with a cry, making a mess of the sheets, then reached down to pull the plug out.
But I want to be inside you, he said. I want to touch the real you.
I pulled it partway out, then thrust it partway back in, imagining something else entirely. In, out, in, out... Shindou...!
I don't know how long I was caught up in the fantasy. Long enough that I came again, surprising myself when I realized how close I was, and then fucking myself desperately with the tip of the plug while I jerked off once more. I came so hard I nearly passed out, and I was asleep quickly after that, all thought of dinner or playing more on the Internet wiped out.
(continue to part eight!)
