[Fic] Crossing Boundaries 6/? (Hikaru no Go)
Title: Crossing Boundaries 6/? (Chapter 6: Assertion)
Authors: aiwritingfic and chaineddove
Characters: Isumi, Le Ping, Yang Hai
Wordcount/Rating: 4500+ words / PG-13 (FINALLY!)
Summary: Isumi is stuck with the notion that Le Ping is a kid. Le Ping, unfortunately, has other ideas.
Author's Notes: Dedicated to JR East Japan (aiwritingfic) and Frontier Airlines (chaineddove).
Previous chapters: Mistranslation, Resolve, Shift, Delusion, Correspondence.
It hadn't been very difficult to clear Isumi's schedule. He had not qualified for any other tournament besides the Honinbou, and now that was over, his Oteai matches and other commitments were rescheduled or cancelled with the Institute's permission. Isumi wondered if it was usually this easy to clear a two-week block of time, or if there was a lull in Japanese professional go during May. He hadn't noticed any lull before, but how else might such ease of moving five matches (two with title-holders and one with Touya Akira, who seemed to be playing for every other major title) be explained?
At any rate, he had been sitting in the window seat of this plane for an hour now. China Airlines wasn't that dissimilar from JAL, Isumi thought, nodding his thanks to the flight attendant who presented him with a cup of hot tea. Oolong tea instead of green tea, but still hot tea. Did Le Ping drink green tea or oolong tea in China?
Isumi paused; he didn't know. Le Ping had never expressed a preference in his presence, now that he came to think of it. He'd considered bringing Yang Hai and Le Ping souvenirs from Japan as it had been two years since their last visit, but had decided on yet another book, this one a compedium of kifu compiled by the Japanese Go Weekly.
At this rate, Le Ping will have more Japanese go books than Chinese ones, Isumi thought with a sigh. He needed to learn to vary his gifts. Japanese go books, yes. His mother had insisted he also bring Japanese mochi and Japanese rice crackers. He even had some tea biscuits for Li-sensei. Yang Hai's entertainment merchandise (Isumi had been somewhat overwhelmed at the range of products one could purchase from Johnny's Entertainment; thank goodness Yang Hai had provided a detailed shopping list and the sales attendants had been so helpful) was packed safely in Isumi's suitcase. Isumi wondered if those had to be declared at customs. Would he be required to open his suitcases? What would the customs officials think if they opened the sealed envelopes to find ...
Isumi flushed, shaking his head. There was no reason for the customs officials to open the envelopes. He had better things to think about than half-naked idols.
The image of Le Ping grinning out from a photograph flashed unbidden into his mind. Isumi wondered what Le Ping had been thinking when that picture was taken; Le Ping had looked so happy. Perhaps it had been taken not too long after his victory in Korea.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing at Beijing International Airport soon. Please remain seated and fasten your seatbelts."
Isumi started. That time already? How had he lost track of three hours? But indeed, looking out the window, he could see the mainland below him; buildings, skyscrapers, and more buildings. A little further off, he saw few shapes clustered together that could only be Beijing's Olympic Village. One of the shapes was unfinished--it must still be under construction.
Would Le Ping and Yang Hai be at the Olympic games? Isumi wondered. If Tokyo succeeded in its bid for the 2016 Olympics, he presumed Shindou or Waya would arrange for some sort of group outing. He wondered if the Chinese go pros had someone as bent on social integration as his friends seemed to be at times. Somehow, he could see Le Ping cajoling and persuading the others into it (or something very similar).
"Ladies and gentlemen, we will now begin our descent. Please ensure your seatbelts are fastened and that your tray tables are in the upright ..."
Isumi settled in for the landing and wondered who would be there at the airport to greet him.
"ISUMI!"
Isumi hadn't gone two steps into the arrival lobby before he heard his name. He had barely turned around when he found himself staggering backwards from the force of a very enthusiastic hug. Regaining his balance, he noted with shock and some dismay that Le Ping was grinning down at him--down, not up!
Isumi felt his cheeks heating. Le Ping was holding tightly to him, arms around Isumi as his head rested on Isumi's shoulder. It was strange how that didn't feel uncomfortable, in and of itself; but being embraced in public was something Isumi found very disconcerting. They were being stared at; he was sure of it. Hopefully people thought Isumi was merely being greeted by an over-enthusiastic cousin.
"Le Ping," he began, not wanting to push Le Ping away but feeling distinctly awkward.
"Sorry, sorry," Le Ping apologized, and let Isumi go. "I haven't seen you for too long. It's your own fault for never coming to visit."
It was difficult to be unmoved by that wide grin. Though still somewhat off-balance, Isumi relented quickly, smiling. "You've grown, Le Ping." Never mind that he had to look up at Le Ping now. It was mildly disorienting; Isumi was not used to being next to someone who was both younger and yet taller than him. In fact, Le Ping was at least as tall as Yang Hai now, Isumi surmised.
"Maybe you've shrunk again," Le Ping teased. "I think I accused you of that last time, too. Now that I'm taller than Yang Hai, he says the Go Association should stop feeding me."
That reminded Isumi. "Where is Yang Hai-san?" It was strange not to see Yang Hai here at the airport.
"He's back at home," Le Ping replied. "You'll see him at dinner, probably. He was playing Netgo and it seemed like a serious game, so I came by myself. Do you have any bags?"
"Just this one," Isumi replied, indicating his suitcase. It was strange to hear that Yang Hai hadn't wanted to leave his Netgo to come and greet Isumi. Had Isumi done something to offend him? Perhaps he could ask Le Ping on the way back. He felt a little hungry. Would it be polite to ask Le Ping if they could go to a restaurant? Perhaps there, Isumi could practice some Chinese--he had repeated the phrase "Please give me some X" so many times Waya had poked him on the subway one day as a very unsubtle hint to stop.
Just then, Isumi paused in his tracks. "Le Ping! Your Japanese!" He hadn't noticed at first, because it had been perfect. Le Ping's pronunciation, Le Ping's grammar ... all without more than the slightest of hesitation.
"It's better, right?" Le Ping was obviously very pleased with himself. "Yang Hai has been giving me grammar exercises lately to keep me busy, or so he says."
"It's perfect." Isumi felt ashamed--his Chinese had not progressed as rapidly as Le Ping's Japanese obviously had. "You must have been working extremely hard. I'm amazed you found time to study go and still perfect your Japanese. Congratulations, Le Ping!"
"Thank you. I can't wait to hear you speak Chinese," Le Ping said with a wicked glint in his eyes, clearly interpreting the expression of Isumi's face correctly. "This time I get to tease you."
Isumi's heart sank. After listening to Le Ping's perfect Japanese, it would be far too embarassing to speak Chinese before him. "Please go easy on me," he managed, hoping he didn't look as dismayed as he felt.
Le Ping laughed, then tugged Isumi's hand to get him moving towards the exit. "Don't worry, you can't be worse than me, saying something about winning you to that creepy old man at the Go Institute. Remember that?"
If his cheeks hadn't been pink before, Isumi was quite certain they were bright red now. "Le Ping!" he protested. He did indeed remember, and as soon as he had, he wanted to forget it immediately. It was unlikely Kuwabara had lost sight of the remark, and knowing the Honinbou, Isumi was quite sure Kuwabara had inferred something quite different from what Le Ping had most certainly meant. After all, Kuwabara had sent Isumi that lewd electronic greeting card and the just as lewd (and horrifyingly accurate) greeting: Too bad I couldn't find another little redhead; this old man had nothing to tempt Waya-kun into posing this way, and I'm not about to spend the price of a return ticket on a rival.
Under no circumstances whatsoever could Le Ping find out about that card, Isumi thought, absolutely horrified. He was sure Kuwabara would never mention this to anyone else ... right?
Meanwhile, Le Ping continued to chatter. "I'll try not to say anything I don't mean this time," he said.
Considering Le Ping's mastery of the language in less than five years, Isumi supposed anything Le Ping said would be meant exactly the way it sounded. At least there would be no more sorry misunderstandings this way. "Mistakes are natural when learning a language," Isumi said. "Though please don't think I'm making excuses for myself," he added hastily.
"I look forward to hearing you say things you might not mean, then," Le Ping replied easily. "Come on, let's go catch the train. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
Isumi smiled. "Why don't you lead us to a restaurant, then? I treat eat you."
Le Ping looked like he was choking back a laugh, indicating that sentence had probably not been quite right, but he didn't make any corrections, saying only, "Thanks for the invitation. I never turn down free food."
Outside the train station, they stopped at what seemed to Isumi to be a Chinese version of Yoshinoya. There, Isumi watched as Le Ping tried to hide his expression with every other sentence Isumi uttered, and proceeded to stuff himself with at least twice as much food as his lanky body should have been able to hold, following this feat up with dessert.
It was a good thing food in Beijing was still much cheaper than it was in Japan, Isumi thought ruefully. After they had finished and Isumi had paid the bill, they headed for the familiar neighborhood surrounding the Chinese Go Association's dormitory. A bouncy ringtone that sounded strangely familiar came from Le Ping's pockets.
Just as Isumi identified it as the theme to a recent box office blockbuster (it had been impossible not to know the song by the time the movie began showing in cinemas), Le Ping pulled out a cellphone that still looked quite new. He spoke for a few moments before pressing a button and putting it back in his pocket.
"Yang Hai," Le Ping said by way of explanation. "He's coming out to meet us. He says he wants to apologize for neglecting you. I think his game is finally over. I wonder who it was with? He never looks so serious."
Isumi felt better. So it had been an important match, then. No wonder Yang Hai hadn't been able to go to the airport with Le Ping. "It's all right," he said, shaking his head and smiling. "Why don't we meet him at the hotel?"
"Because I didn't book you one," Le Ping said, as though this should be obvious. "My roommate went home to visit his parents this week, so you can just stay with me."
"What? I--"
About to protest that he couldn't impose, Isumi remembered that he had done just that, years ago. Then, he'd imposed himself upon Yang Hai, who might have only offered a place to stay so that he could interrogate a young Japanese go player and extract information about the Japanese entertainment scene. The situation was different now: Le Ping was a friend, and a good one. If it had been acceptable for Isumi to stay with Yang Hai then, why should Isumi protest if Le Ping had arranged for Isumi to stay with him now?
Making up his mind, Isumi smiled. "Thank you, Le Ping," he said. Inside, he felt the beginnings of a sensation he'd always identified as pre-match jitters. Why now? he wondered. Was it the thought of staying at the Chinese Go Association? Perhaps he was remembering his worry and concern from that first visit. Not knowing if he could pull himself out of his slump, always trying to stay ahead of young go pros half his age ... Of course. That must be it.
Le Ping's smile was guileless. "You're welcome, Isumi. I'm happy you came."
Before he could say anything else, Yang Hai appeared from around the corner. "Isumi-kun!" Yang Hai called out, raising a hand in greeting. "Sorry I couldn't meet you at the airport. Your Honinbou was very insistent on a match."
"Oh, is that who it was!" Le Ping exclaimed. "I played with him a few weeks ago. I was surprised that he knew how to use a computer. And that he remembered who I was. I think I only talked to him once. I lost so badly, please tell me you did better!"
Yang Hai reached up and patted Le Ping's head. "What do you take me for? At least I didn't lose by fifteen moku. Such an embarassment to China you were. Of course I had to save China's reputation."
Isumi noted Yang Hai had avoided actually stating the result of the match, but now wasn't the time to press for it. "Yang Hai-san," he said, nodding his head lightly as he greeted his friend with a smile.
"Isumi-kun," Yang Hai said, patting Isumi on the back. "I'm glad Le Ping didn't lose you in the heart of the city. Good thing he's so tall. You must have found it easy following the red hair above the rest of the crowd."
"You're just annoyed that I'm taller now," Le Ping shot back.
"Don't get cocky," Yang Hai grinned. "It's not as if I can't do this--" And with that, Yang Hai reached up and easily ruffled Le Ping's hair.
Le Ping batted Yang Hai's hand away and glared. "Stop it!"
"Yes, yes, well," Yang Hai said, waving his hand in the air as if dismissing the subject. "So, Le Ping, where's the nearest restaurant? The least Isumi-kun can do is treat us to lunch."
"Isumi already bought me lunch," Le Ping replied with a grin. "I was hungry."
"Crap, missed it. That old man owes me for this. And Le Ping, you're always hungry," Yang Hai said, shaking his head at Isumi. "How many horses did he eat, Isumi-kun?"
Isumi laughed and shook his head. "Don't be so hard on him, Yang Hai-san."
"That's right," Le Ping chimed in. "Unlike some people, I'm still growing!"
Yang Hai looked at Isumi and shrugged theatrically. "I wash my hands of him. He's your responsibility now, Isumi-kun. Feed him well, and make sure he does the dishes, all right?"
There was perhaps no need for Yang Hai to act the part of a father giving away his daughter's hand in marriage, Isumi thought, blanching internally. "Yang Hai-san!"
Yang Hai sighed, shrugging again to the passers-by. "Young love. They'll be squabbling in two days, and making up passionately in three."
That was quite enough for Isumi, who felt his cheeks heating up again. "Yang Hai-san!"
Le Ping looked a little pink himself. "ANYWAY," he said, in a clear attempt to change the subject, "we should go inside and stop standing in the middle of the street."
"Good idea," Isumi said. He pulled on his suitcase, glad it made such a loud noise on the uneven sidewalk. "Excuse me, Yang Hai-san--we'll be right back."
Was that a smirk on Yang Hai's face? "Take your time," Yang Hai said, and he patted Le Ping's back almost affectionately. "Good job, Le Ping."
Good job on what? Isumi wasn't sure, but Yang Hai didn't seem inclined to elaborate. Neither did Le Ping, for that matter. There might have been the slightest shade of pink on Le Ping's face, but he turned away too quickly for Isumi to be sure.
"Come, Isumi," Le Ping said, hurrying into the building. Isumi followed, finding himself having to hurry too in order not to lose sight of Le Ping. He wondered when Le Ping's shoulders had become so broad.
"It's here," Le Ping said as he opened the door.
Le Ping was in a different room from the last time Isumi was here--this was no longer a dormitory with four beds and three other noisy eleven-year-olds competing for Le Ping (or Isumi)'s attention. Rather, a neatly-made double greeted Isumi, and he paused at the doorway in surprise. There was a distinct lack of clutter in this room. Where Yang Hai's table and shelves had been covered in kifu and computers, Le Ping's (and that of Le Ping's roommate) were tidy, everything arranged neatly in order. The floor was spotless, the beds made with hospital corners (Isumi wondered if he himself could make hospital corners that sharp), and ... he smelled a hint of air freshener.
Le Ping took away Isumi's suitcase and set it at the foot of one of the beds, the one nearest to the window. "There's a towel folded in the bathroom for you," he said, looking a little nervous. "Just tell me if you need something."
It was clear Le Ping had spent a lot of time and effort preparing for his visit. Touched, Isumi smiled warmly at him. "I'm sure I'll be fine, Le Ping," he said. "I couldn't have asked for a better host. Thank you for inviting me, and for having me here with you. Really thank you."
Le Ping's nervousness seemed to recede a little. "You're welcome," he replied. After a moment of silence, he went to one of the beds and sat down on the edge. "Make yourself at home," he said. "The others will be arriving tomorrow for the tournament, but I have the rest of the day free, so we can do whatever you like. I don't know if you want to go see anything, or maybe you want to go to the Association to play a few games, or maybe you're tired, though it's not really that long a trip, or... anyway." He smiled sheepishly. "I'll be quiet now. You can pick."
Isumi couldn't help but chuckle. He sat on the other bed with a sigh, enjoying the feeling of being off his feet properly at last. "Give me a few minutes to clear my head, and we can play some go, if you'd like," he offered, smiling at Le Ping. He hadn't played across the goban from Le Ping since ... well, since the last New Stars Tournament in Beijing. "Show me how much you've improved."
"Gladly," Le Ping said, and rose to drag a goban out to the middle of the room. "Though if you can beat Kuwabara Honinbou, I still have a long way to go! That game I had with him was terrible. I'm pretty sure he was making fun of me."
"Kuwabara-sensei can be a very intimidating opponent," Isumi said diplomatically, trying to stretch discreetly. "I know you won't take anything he says to heart, right, Le Ping?"
"Hmm, well, he did say a few pretty interesting things," was Le Ping's rather cryptic reply. "Nigiri?"
"Please," Isumi said, settling down before Le Ping. After nigiri, they exchanged go ke, and Isumi waited for Le Ping's first stone.
Le Ping took a moment before placing a stone just above the star point in the upper right. "This is going to sound a little stupid," he said with a sheepish smile, "but I think I'm actually kind of nervous."
It was true; Isumi had noticed how Le Ping's hand had shook slightly as he placed the stone. Isumi looked up, wondering why, and gave Le Ping a warm smile. "You've never been nervous playing me before, Le Ping. You've improved so much--there's nothing to be nervous about." Isumi placed a stone on another star point. "In fact, perhaps I should be the nervous one."
"Yes, but you see, I am not nervous because I am playing, but because I am playing with you."
Isumi was definitely not imagining the hint of pink on the boy's face this time, but at least Le Ping's hand was steadier when he placed his second stone. "You should never be nervous with me, Le Ping," he said, studying the board and placing another white stone. "What you say, anything, I listen."
Le Ping muttered something in Chinese that might have been about progressing too quickly and losing territory; the exact meanings of the words were a little beyond Isumi's vocabulary. Isumi watched as Le Ping placed a stone that would potentially become a threat in the mid-game. Maybe that was all it was--though then again, it was the first time Isumi had heard Le Ping reason his own moves with himself out loud before making them.
When Le Ping spoke again in Japanese, he said, "Maybe later," and then, "Would you like to make a wager on the game? You and Yang Hai do this all the time, right?"
"Yang Hai is a bad influence on you," Isumi said, trying to sound stern. It was difficult to lecture, though, when most of their earliest games together had indeed carried stakes (though Yang Hai had been the one betting). "All right. What would you like?"
There was a moment of strangely tense silence. Then Le Ping smiled. "You decide. What would you like?"
"Me?" Taken by surprise, Isumi paused. Then he realized he hadn't yet placed a stone, and he did so. "I don't have much to offer; I didn't bring many things with me." He doubted Le Ping would want his cellphone; Japanese cellphones didn't work on the same frequency Chinese phones did. That, and Le Ping had just won a very nice one from Yang Hai. Le Ping already owned an iPod, and Isumi doubted Le Ping would want his somewhat-well-used watch.
If there was one thing Isumi had on this trip, though, it was time. "All right, then, how about this? We'll do whatever you want if you win." If Le Ping asked to go somewhere expensive, it would be a well-earned treat, and Isumi had enough to cover just about anything reasonable Le Ping could think of, right? "Deal?"
Le Ping's smile grew. "Same terms if you win, then. Deal." His next stone was a considerably more aggressive attack, one that required Isumi respond, and suddenly Isumi found himself on the defensive, barely ten moves in.
His breath quickened as Le Ping pushed him into corners, feinting and wrapping stones in ways Isumi had never seen Le Ping do before. A tsuke followed a kosumi in an unexpected place. Isumi gained sente with one hand, and five moves later Le Ping took it back. Hane matched hane, an atari here was countered with kikashi there, and it felt to Isumi somewhat like being swept into a whirlpool. Playing Shindou and Touya hadn't been like this, but this game with Le Ping ... usually Le Ping's go was direct and yet careful. Today it felt somewhat like Le Ping had nothing to lose, and the sheer audacity and guts it must have taken Le Ping to make some of these moves--that semedori was genius Isumi was committing to memory--took Isumi's breath away.
It was a display he'd have expected of Shindou or Touya, or any other pro on the circuit; Ko Yongha, perhaps, or even Yashiro, one of the most daring players in Japan. But Le Ping ... Isumi had never seen Le Ping play like this before. It was beautiful to watch, and dizzying to encounter on the goban. This is amazing go, Isumi thought, looking up once at Le Ping, whose face was furrowed in thought, concentrating hard on the game.
Le Ping was nibbling lightly on his lower lip, and Isumi stared, fascinated, watching Le Ping's teeth worry it. It was a few moments before he realized just what he was doing. I can't afford to take my eyes off the goban, Isumi realized, feeling uncomfortably guilty.
Then Le Ping placed a stone deep into the heart of Isumi's territory, and there was no more room for thoughts of anything besides the match.
"Half a moku," Isumi conceded with a mix of pride and reluctance. The game had been hard-fought, Le Ping proving as intractable as Isumi himself, and they'd clashed over every corner and space. Isumi's heart was still racing, and he felt as if he'd been running for miles. "Congratulations, you improve amazing! I work harder, next time won't lose. Your prize is?"
"My prize? Whatever I want, right? Okay." There was an unfamiliar expression on his face, and he seemed even more intensely focused than he had been during the game. Isumi watched Le Ping's lips press together again before parting for Le Ping's tongue, which darted out to moisten his lips. Was Le Ping even more nervous than he'd been during the match?
Maybe Le Ping was gathering courage to ask about a very expensive treat. Considering the game, Le Ping had more than earned it. That had been a dazzling display of brilliance on the goban. "Anything," Isumi said, smiling. "It's all right. You've earned it."
"Okay," Le Ping said again. "Close your eyes, then."
"Close my eyes?" Puzzled, Isumi did so. "All right, my eyes are closed, if that's what you want." Isumi couldn't make a connection between this and Le Ping's prize, though. Could Le Ping have been mistaken in his Japanese? "Le Ping, I don't see wha--"
"And please stop talking a second." Le Ping's voice was closer--had he come around the goban?
Isumi fell silent, waiting, but nothing happened. He wanted to ask Le Ping what was going on, and he was tempted to open his eyes. Something felt ... taut. He felt tense, on edge, and he realized his heart was pounding, his throat thickening. "Le Ping?" Isumi asked softly, eyes still closed.
Le Ping didn't answer, but he did let out an audible sigh. And then, before Isumi could decide to open his eyes and demand Le Ping explain himself, Le Ping's lips were on his.
Next (final chapter): Resolution
Authors: aiwritingfic and chaineddove
Characters: Isumi, Le Ping, Yang Hai
Wordcount/Rating: 4500+ words / PG-13 (FINALLY!)
Summary: Isumi is stuck with the notion that Le Ping is a kid. Le Ping, unfortunately, has other ideas.
Author's Notes: Dedicated to JR East Japan (aiwritingfic) and Frontier Airlines (chaineddove).
Previous chapters: Mistranslation, Resolve, Shift, Delusion, Correspondence.
It hadn't been very difficult to clear Isumi's schedule. He had not qualified for any other tournament besides the Honinbou, and now that was over, his Oteai matches and other commitments were rescheduled or cancelled with the Institute's permission. Isumi wondered if it was usually this easy to clear a two-week block of time, or if there was a lull in Japanese professional go during May. He hadn't noticed any lull before, but how else might such ease of moving five matches (two with title-holders and one with Touya Akira, who seemed to be playing for every other major title) be explained?
At any rate, he had been sitting in the window seat of this plane for an hour now. China Airlines wasn't that dissimilar from JAL, Isumi thought, nodding his thanks to the flight attendant who presented him with a cup of hot tea. Oolong tea instead of green tea, but still hot tea. Did Le Ping drink green tea or oolong tea in China?
Isumi paused; he didn't know. Le Ping had never expressed a preference in his presence, now that he came to think of it. He'd considered bringing Yang Hai and Le Ping souvenirs from Japan as it had been two years since their last visit, but had decided on yet another book, this one a compedium of kifu compiled by the Japanese Go Weekly.
At this rate, Le Ping will have more Japanese go books than Chinese ones, Isumi thought with a sigh. He needed to learn to vary his gifts. Japanese go books, yes. His mother had insisted he also bring Japanese mochi and Japanese rice crackers. He even had some tea biscuits for Li-sensei. Yang Hai's entertainment merchandise (Isumi had been somewhat overwhelmed at the range of products one could purchase from Johnny's Entertainment; thank goodness Yang Hai had provided a detailed shopping list and the sales attendants had been so helpful) was packed safely in Isumi's suitcase. Isumi wondered if those had to be declared at customs. Would he be required to open his suitcases? What would the customs officials think if they opened the sealed envelopes to find ...
Isumi flushed, shaking his head. There was no reason for the customs officials to open the envelopes. He had better things to think about than half-naked idols.
The image of Le Ping grinning out from a photograph flashed unbidden into his mind. Isumi wondered what Le Ping had been thinking when that picture was taken; Le Ping had looked so happy. Perhaps it had been taken not too long after his victory in Korea.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing at Beijing International Airport soon. Please remain seated and fasten your seatbelts."
Isumi started. That time already? How had he lost track of three hours? But indeed, looking out the window, he could see the mainland below him; buildings, skyscrapers, and more buildings. A little further off, he saw few shapes clustered together that could only be Beijing's Olympic Village. One of the shapes was unfinished--it must still be under construction.
Would Le Ping and Yang Hai be at the Olympic games? Isumi wondered. If Tokyo succeeded in its bid for the 2016 Olympics, he presumed Shindou or Waya would arrange for some sort of group outing. He wondered if the Chinese go pros had someone as bent on social integration as his friends seemed to be at times. Somehow, he could see Le Ping cajoling and persuading the others into it (or something very similar).
"Ladies and gentlemen, we will now begin our descent. Please ensure your seatbelts are fastened and that your tray tables are in the upright ..."
Isumi settled in for the landing and wondered who would be there at the airport to greet him.
"ISUMI!"
Isumi hadn't gone two steps into the arrival lobby before he heard his name. He had barely turned around when he found himself staggering backwards from the force of a very enthusiastic hug. Regaining his balance, he noted with shock and some dismay that Le Ping was grinning down at him--down, not up!
Isumi felt his cheeks heating. Le Ping was holding tightly to him, arms around Isumi as his head rested on Isumi's shoulder. It was strange how that didn't feel uncomfortable, in and of itself; but being embraced in public was something Isumi found very disconcerting. They were being stared at; he was sure of it. Hopefully people thought Isumi was merely being greeted by an over-enthusiastic cousin.
"Le Ping," he began, not wanting to push Le Ping away but feeling distinctly awkward.
"Sorry, sorry," Le Ping apologized, and let Isumi go. "I haven't seen you for too long. It's your own fault for never coming to visit."
It was difficult to be unmoved by that wide grin. Though still somewhat off-balance, Isumi relented quickly, smiling. "You've grown, Le Ping." Never mind that he had to look up at Le Ping now. It was mildly disorienting; Isumi was not used to being next to someone who was both younger and yet taller than him. In fact, Le Ping was at least as tall as Yang Hai now, Isumi surmised.
"Maybe you've shrunk again," Le Ping teased. "I think I accused you of that last time, too. Now that I'm taller than Yang Hai, he says the Go Association should stop feeding me."
That reminded Isumi. "Where is Yang Hai-san?" It was strange not to see Yang Hai here at the airport.
"He's back at home," Le Ping replied. "You'll see him at dinner, probably. He was playing Netgo and it seemed like a serious game, so I came by myself. Do you have any bags?"
"Just this one," Isumi replied, indicating his suitcase. It was strange to hear that Yang Hai hadn't wanted to leave his Netgo to come and greet Isumi. Had Isumi done something to offend him? Perhaps he could ask Le Ping on the way back. He felt a little hungry. Would it be polite to ask Le Ping if they could go to a restaurant? Perhaps there, Isumi could practice some Chinese--he had repeated the phrase "Please give me some X" so many times Waya had poked him on the subway one day as a very unsubtle hint to stop.
Just then, Isumi paused in his tracks. "Le Ping! Your Japanese!" He hadn't noticed at first, because it had been perfect. Le Ping's pronunciation, Le Ping's grammar ... all without more than the slightest of hesitation.
"It's better, right?" Le Ping was obviously very pleased with himself. "Yang Hai has been giving me grammar exercises lately to keep me busy, or so he says."
"It's perfect." Isumi felt ashamed--his Chinese had not progressed as rapidly as Le Ping's Japanese obviously had. "You must have been working extremely hard. I'm amazed you found time to study go and still perfect your Japanese. Congratulations, Le Ping!"
"Thank you. I can't wait to hear you speak Chinese," Le Ping said with a wicked glint in his eyes, clearly interpreting the expression of Isumi's face correctly. "This time I get to tease you."
Isumi's heart sank. After listening to Le Ping's perfect Japanese, it would be far too embarassing to speak Chinese before him. "Please go easy on me," he managed, hoping he didn't look as dismayed as he felt.
Le Ping laughed, then tugged Isumi's hand to get him moving towards the exit. "Don't worry, you can't be worse than me, saying something about winning you to that creepy old man at the Go Institute. Remember that?"
If his cheeks hadn't been pink before, Isumi was quite certain they were bright red now. "Le Ping!" he protested. He did indeed remember, and as soon as he had, he wanted to forget it immediately. It was unlikely Kuwabara had lost sight of the remark, and knowing the Honinbou, Isumi was quite sure Kuwabara had inferred something quite different from what Le Ping had most certainly meant. After all, Kuwabara had sent Isumi that lewd electronic greeting card and the just as lewd (and horrifyingly accurate) greeting: Too bad I couldn't find another little redhead; this old man had nothing to tempt Waya-kun into posing this way, and I'm not about to spend the price of a return ticket on a rival.
Under no circumstances whatsoever could Le Ping find out about that card, Isumi thought, absolutely horrified. He was sure Kuwabara would never mention this to anyone else ... right?
Meanwhile, Le Ping continued to chatter. "I'll try not to say anything I don't mean this time," he said.
Considering Le Ping's mastery of the language in less than five years, Isumi supposed anything Le Ping said would be meant exactly the way it sounded. At least there would be no more sorry misunderstandings this way. "Mistakes are natural when learning a language," Isumi said. "Though please don't think I'm making excuses for myself," he added hastily.
"I look forward to hearing you say things you might not mean, then," Le Ping replied easily. "Come on, let's go catch the train. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
Isumi smiled. "Why don't you lead us to a restaurant, then? I treat eat you."
Le Ping looked like he was choking back a laugh, indicating that sentence had probably not been quite right, but he didn't make any corrections, saying only, "Thanks for the invitation. I never turn down free food."
Outside the train station, they stopped at what seemed to Isumi to be a Chinese version of Yoshinoya. There, Isumi watched as Le Ping tried to hide his expression with every other sentence Isumi uttered, and proceeded to stuff himself with at least twice as much food as his lanky body should have been able to hold, following this feat up with dessert.
It was a good thing food in Beijing was still much cheaper than it was in Japan, Isumi thought ruefully. After they had finished and Isumi had paid the bill, they headed for the familiar neighborhood surrounding the Chinese Go Association's dormitory. A bouncy ringtone that sounded strangely familiar came from Le Ping's pockets.
Just as Isumi identified it as the theme to a recent box office blockbuster (it had been impossible not to know the song by the time the movie began showing in cinemas), Le Ping pulled out a cellphone that still looked quite new. He spoke for a few moments before pressing a button and putting it back in his pocket.
"Yang Hai," Le Ping said by way of explanation. "He's coming out to meet us. He says he wants to apologize for neglecting you. I think his game is finally over. I wonder who it was with? He never looks so serious."
Isumi felt better. So it had been an important match, then. No wonder Yang Hai hadn't been able to go to the airport with Le Ping. "It's all right," he said, shaking his head and smiling. "Why don't we meet him at the hotel?"
"Because I didn't book you one," Le Ping said, as though this should be obvious. "My roommate went home to visit his parents this week, so you can just stay with me."
"What? I--"
About to protest that he couldn't impose, Isumi remembered that he had done just that, years ago. Then, he'd imposed himself upon Yang Hai, who might have only offered a place to stay so that he could interrogate a young Japanese go player and extract information about the Japanese entertainment scene. The situation was different now: Le Ping was a friend, and a good one. If it had been acceptable for Isumi to stay with Yang Hai then, why should Isumi protest if Le Ping had arranged for Isumi to stay with him now?
Making up his mind, Isumi smiled. "Thank you, Le Ping," he said. Inside, he felt the beginnings of a sensation he'd always identified as pre-match jitters. Why now? he wondered. Was it the thought of staying at the Chinese Go Association? Perhaps he was remembering his worry and concern from that first visit. Not knowing if he could pull himself out of his slump, always trying to stay ahead of young go pros half his age ... Of course. That must be it.
Le Ping's smile was guileless. "You're welcome, Isumi. I'm happy you came."
Before he could say anything else, Yang Hai appeared from around the corner. "Isumi-kun!" Yang Hai called out, raising a hand in greeting. "Sorry I couldn't meet you at the airport. Your Honinbou was very insistent on a match."
"Oh, is that who it was!" Le Ping exclaimed. "I played with him a few weeks ago. I was surprised that he knew how to use a computer. And that he remembered who I was. I think I only talked to him once. I lost so badly, please tell me you did better!"
Yang Hai reached up and patted Le Ping's head. "What do you take me for? At least I didn't lose by fifteen moku. Such an embarassment to China you were. Of course I had to save China's reputation."
Isumi noted Yang Hai had avoided actually stating the result of the match, but now wasn't the time to press for it. "Yang Hai-san," he said, nodding his head lightly as he greeted his friend with a smile.
"Isumi-kun," Yang Hai said, patting Isumi on the back. "I'm glad Le Ping didn't lose you in the heart of the city. Good thing he's so tall. You must have found it easy following the red hair above the rest of the crowd."
"You're just annoyed that I'm taller now," Le Ping shot back.
"Don't get cocky," Yang Hai grinned. "It's not as if I can't do this--" And with that, Yang Hai reached up and easily ruffled Le Ping's hair.
Le Ping batted Yang Hai's hand away and glared. "Stop it!"
"Yes, yes, well," Yang Hai said, waving his hand in the air as if dismissing the subject. "So, Le Ping, where's the nearest restaurant? The least Isumi-kun can do is treat us to lunch."
"Isumi already bought me lunch," Le Ping replied with a grin. "I was hungry."
"Crap, missed it. That old man owes me for this. And Le Ping, you're always hungry," Yang Hai said, shaking his head at Isumi. "How many horses did he eat, Isumi-kun?"
Isumi laughed and shook his head. "Don't be so hard on him, Yang Hai-san."
"That's right," Le Ping chimed in. "Unlike some people, I'm still growing!"
Yang Hai looked at Isumi and shrugged theatrically. "I wash my hands of him. He's your responsibility now, Isumi-kun. Feed him well, and make sure he does the dishes, all right?"
There was perhaps no need for Yang Hai to act the part of a father giving away his daughter's hand in marriage, Isumi thought, blanching internally. "Yang Hai-san!"
Yang Hai sighed, shrugging again to the passers-by. "Young love. They'll be squabbling in two days, and making up passionately in three."
That was quite enough for Isumi, who felt his cheeks heating up again. "Yang Hai-san!"
Le Ping looked a little pink himself. "ANYWAY," he said, in a clear attempt to change the subject, "we should go inside and stop standing in the middle of the street."
"Good idea," Isumi said. He pulled on his suitcase, glad it made such a loud noise on the uneven sidewalk. "Excuse me, Yang Hai-san--we'll be right back."
Was that a smirk on Yang Hai's face? "Take your time," Yang Hai said, and he patted Le Ping's back almost affectionately. "Good job, Le Ping."
Good job on what? Isumi wasn't sure, but Yang Hai didn't seem inclined to elaborate. Neither did Le Ping, for that matter. There might have been the slightest shade of pink on Le Ping's face, but he turned away too quickly for Isumi to be sure.
"Come, Isumi," Le Ping said, hurrying into the building. Isumi followed, finding himself having to hurry too in order not to lose sight of Le Ping. He wondered when Le Ping's shoulders had become so broad.
"It's here," Le Ping said as he opened the door.
Le Ping was in a different room from the last time Isumi was here--this was no longer a dormitory with four beds and three other noisy eleven-year-olds competing for Le Ping (or Isumi)'s attention. Rather, a neatly-made double greeted Isumi, and he paused at the doorway in surprise. There was a distinct lack of clutter in this room. Where Yang Hai's table and shelves had been covered in kifu and computers, Le Ping's (and that of Le Ping's roommate) were tidy, everything arranged neatly in order. The floor was spotless, the beds made with hospital corners (Isumi wondered if he himself could make hospital corners that sharp), and ... he smelled a hint of air freshener.
Le Ping took away Isumi's suitcase and set it at the foot of one of the beds, the one nearest to the window. "There's a towel folded in the bathroom for you," he said, looking a little nervous. "Just tell me if you need something."
It was clear Le Ping had spent a lot of time and effort preparing for his visit. Touched, Isumi smiled warmly at him. "I'm sure I'll be fine, Le Ping," he said. "I couldn't have asked for a better host. Thank you for inviting me, and for having me here with you. Really thank you."
Le Ping's nervousness seemed to recede a little. "You're welcome," he replied. After a moment of silence, he went to one of the beds and sat down on the edge. "Make yourself at home," he said. "The others will be arriving tomorrow for the tournament, but I have the rest of the day free, so we can do whatever you like. I don't know if you want to go see anything, or maybe you want to go to the Association to play a few games, or maybe you're tired, though it's not really that long a trip, or... anyway." He smiled sheepishly. "I'll be quiet now. You can pick."
Isumi couldn't help but chuckle. He sat on the other bed with a sigh, enjoying the feeling of being off his feet properly at last. "Give me a few minutes to clear my head, and we can play some go, if you'd like," he offered, smiling at Le Ping. He hadn't played across the goban from Le Ping since ... well, since the last New Stars Tournament in Beijing. "Show me how much you've improved."
"Gladly," Le Ping said, and rose to drag a goban out to the middle of the room. "Though if you can beat Kuwabara Honinbou, I still have a long way to go! That game I had with him was terrible. I'm pretty sure he was making fun of me."
"Kuwabara-sensei can be a very intimidating opponent," Isumi said diplomatically, trying to stretch discreetly. "I know you won't take anything he says to heart, right, Le Ping?"
"Hmm, well, he did say a few pretty interesting things," was Le Ping's rather cryptic reply. "Nigiri?"
"Please," Isumi said, settling down before Le Ping. After nigiri, they exchanged go ke, and Isumi waited for Le Ping's first stone.
Le Ping took a moment before placing a stone just above the star point in the upper right. "This is going to sound a little stupid," he said with a sheepish smile, "but I think I'm actually kind of nervous."
It was true; Isumi had noticed how Le Ping's hand had shook slightly as he placed the stone. Isumi looked up, wondering why, and gave Le Ping a warm smile. "You've never been nervous playing me before, Le Ping. You've improved so much--there's nothing to be nervous about." Isumi placed a stone on another star point. "In fact, perhaps I should be the nervous one."
"Yes, but you see, I am not nervous because I am playing, but because I am playing with you."
Isumi was definitely not imagining the hint of pink on the boy's face this time, but at least Le Ping's hand was steadier when he placed his second stone. "You should never be nervous with me, Le Ping," he said, studying the board and placing another white stone. "What you say, anything, I listen."
Le Ping muttered something in Chinese that might have been about progressing too quickly and losing territory; the exact meanings of the words were a little beyond Isumi's vocabulary. Isumi watched as Le Ping placed a stone that would potentially become a threat in the mid-game. Maybe that was all it was--though then again, it was the first time Isumi had heard Le Ping reason his own moves with himself out loud before making them.
When Le Ping spoke again in Japanese, he said, "Maybe later," and then, "Would you like to make a wager on the game? You and Yang Hai do this all the time, right?"
"Yang Hai is a bad influence on you," Isumi said, trying to sound stern. It was difficult to lecture, though, when most of their earliest games together had indeed carried stakes (though Yang Hai had been the one betting). "All right. What would you like?"
There was a moment of strangely tense silence. Then Le Ping smiled. "You decide. What would you like?"
"Me?" Taken by surprise, Isumi paused. Then he realized he hadn't yet placed a stone, and he did so. "I don't have much to offer; I didn't bring many things with me." He doubted Le Ping would want his cellphone; Japanese cellphones didn't work on the same frequency Chinese phones did. That, and Le Ping had just won a very nice one from Yang Hai. Le Ping already owned an iPod, and Isumi doubted Le Ping would want his somewhat-well-used watch.
If there was one thing Isumi had on this trip, though, it was time. "All right, then, how about this? We'll do whatever you want if you win." If Le Ping asked to go somewhere expensive, it would be a well-earned treat, and Isumi had enough to cover just about anything reasonable Le Ping could think of, right? "Deal?"
Le Ping's smile grew. "Same terms if you win, then. Deal." His next stone was a considerably more aggressive attack, one that required Isumi respond, and suddenly Isumi found himself on the defensive, barely ten moves in.
His breath quickened as Le Ping pushed him into corners, feinting and wrapping stones in ways Isumi had never seen Le Ping do before. A tsuke followed a kosumi in an unexpected place. Isumi gained sente with one hand, and five moves later Le Ping took it back. Hane matched hane, an atari here was countered with kikashi there, and it felt to Isumi somewhat like being swept into a whirlpool. Playing Shindou and Touya hadn't been like this, but this game with Le Ping ... usually Le Ping's go was direct and yet careful. Today it felt somewhat like Le Ping had nothing to lose, and the sheer audacity and guts it must have taken Le Ping to make some of these moves--that semedori was genius Isumi was committing to memory--took Isumi's breath away.
It was a display he'd have expected of Shindou or Touya, or any other pro on the circuit; Ko Yongha, perhaps, or even Yashiro, one of the most daring players in Japan. But Le Ping ... Isumi had never seen Le Ping play like this before. It was beautiful to watch, and dizzying to encounter on the goban. This is amazing go, Isumi thought, looking up once at Le Ping, whose face was furrowed in thought, concentrating hard on the game.
Le Ping was nibbling lightly on his lower lip, and Isumi stared, fascinated, watching Le Ping's teeth worry it. It was a few moments before he realized just what he was doing. I can't afford to take my eyes off the goban, Isumi realized, feeling uncomfortably guilty.
Then Le Ping placed a stone deep into the heart of Isumi's territory, and there was no more room for thoughts of anything besides the match.
"Half a moku," Isumi conceded with a mix of pride and reluctance. The game had been hard-fought, Le Ping proving as intractable as Isumi himself, and they'd clashed over every corner and space. Isumi's heart was still racing, and he felt as if he'd been running for miles. "Congratulations, you improve amazing! I work harder, next time won't lose. Your prize is?"
"My prize? Whatever I want, right? Okay." There was an unfamiliar expression on his face, and he seemed even more intensely focused than he had been during the game. Isumi watched Le Ping's lips press together again before parting for Le Ping's tongue, which darted out to moisten his lips. Was Le Ping even more nervous than he'd been during the match?
Maybe Le Ping was gathering courage to ask about a very expensive treat. Considering the game, Le Ping had more than earned it. That had been a dazzling display of brilliance on the goban. "Anything," Isumi said, smiling. "It's all right. You've earned it."
"Okay," Le Ping said again. "Close your eyes, then."
"Close my eyes?" Puzzled, Isumi did so. "All right, my eyes are closed, if that's what you want." Isumi couldn't make a connection between this and Le Ping's prize, though. Could Le Ping have been mistaken in his Japanese? "Le Ping, I don't see wha--"
"And please stop talking a second." Le Ping's voice was closer--had he come around the goban?
Isumi fell silent, waiting, but nothing happened. He wanted to ask Le Ping what was going on, and he was tempted to open his eyes. Something felt ... taut. He felt tense, on edge, and he realized his heart was pounding, his throat thickening. "Le Ping?" Isumi asked softly, eyes still closed.
Le Ping didn't answer, but he did let out an audible sigh. And then, before Isumi could decide to open his eyes and demand Le Ping explain himself, Le Ping's lips were on his.
Next (final chapter): Resolution