Private Instruction 1/1
Title: Private Instruction
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Gen, one-shot, slight humor
Characters: Ko Yeongha, Kuwabara-sensei
Summary: Ko Yeongha goes to Kuwabara-sensei for some private instruction.
Private Instruction
He was used to the smell of tobacco. Though it wasn’t something he liked per se, it didn’t make him uncomfortable the way it did other professionals his age. There had been more than one pro who’d used this to his advantage, and he knew without a doubt that this was the case now.
The old man sitting across the table from him seemed to realize that he was immune to this tactic, for the cigarette was put out after a mere four puffs. That was all to the good as far as he was concerned. Being used to the smell of tobacco didn’t necessarily translate to liking it. He was fond of the Armani dress shirt he wore now, and didn’t want to spend money to wash the stink out of the fabric. The dry-cleaners were expensive.
I’ve heard of you,” the old professional said, leaning back into the chair, a grizzled eyebrow covering one eye.
“I’m honored,” he replied, smiling to hide his not-quite-mastery of the language.
“Of course you are,” the man said, letting out a bray of laughter that was deafening. It had probably startled many a player before, during and after a game. It had startled him, but he was far too well practiced to give any hint of that. “Well? And what brings you here?”
“What any go player seeks,” he said, spreading his arms out in mock supplication, “a game with a Master.”
“You flatter me.” A new cigarette was lit, but the old man did not inhale. “What are you waiting for then? The board is between us. Shall we begin?”
“Nigiri is fine?” he asked. “Or should I place some stones?”
“Hmph. Depends on who you’re placing it for,” the old man retorted. “Nigiri.”
The played the opening sequences in silence, though he never allowed himself to be caught up in the game. Black and white formed familiar patterns on the board, but there was nothing exciting to pull him in, nothing to make him lose himself in the game. These were old paths, treaded by hundreds of players before him.
“Bored?” the old man asked.
“Never,” he replied immediately.
“Yet you’ve allowed your attention to wander,” his opponent pointed out. The man played another all too-conventional hand.
“Give me a reason not to,” he said.
In answer, the old man placed a stone that was considered a conventional response to his previous move.
This time though, he paused, reading the deeper meaning behind the well-worn paths.
“I see,” he said.
“Oh? You do, do you?”
“Yes. You sought to irritate me with these moves, knowing that I was seeking something else.” He pointed to the old professional’s recently placed stone. “This stone, though it is not brilliant by any stretch of the imagination, when considered as an emotional attack against an opponent, is genius. Or would have been,” he said, “had I not been waiting for you to do something like this.”
There was a slight pause.
“You. Tell me your name again.”
“Ko Yeongha, Master Kuwabara.”
“Ah. Well, Ko-kun, you are a faster learner than Ogata-kun.” There was another pause as the old man let out another loud bray of laughter. “He was always a reluctant student though.”
“I recognize a Master when I see one,” he said. “Your tactics are legendary even in Korea.”
“You made a name for yourself last year also. That performance in front of Shindou-kun.” Gnarled hands played absently with a white stone. “If you want my opinion, your execution was clumsy. You attacked more than one person with those comments of yours.”
“It had been spur of the moment,” he said, though it irked him to hear his own private thoughts on the incident voiced as a criticism.
“Is that the excuse you’re going to give me when you resign?”
“Hardly. Though Shindou would not have understood anything less blunt,” he said, choosing to play elsewhere on the board.
“He would not have understood anything you said anyway, though the boy is eloquent enough on the board,” the Master said, laughing. Ignoring his stone, the old man attached to another stone instead. “For that matter, neither would I. I am not as intelligent as you, learning another language in a year, and now I am too old to try.”
“So you’re saying I could have said anything, since he wouldn’t have understood anything I said at the time anyway?”
“Isn’t that what I just said? But you missed the part where I told you that such a thing wouldn’t work on Shindou during a game. Perhaps you are not as bright as I had thought.”
He conceded his loss with a bow of his head.
“I was right to come to you.”
“Ah. Took you long enough to realize that.” No longer paying any attention to the board, the old man took a deep whiff of his cigarette.
Realizing that the Master was waiting for him to play the next move, he placed a black stone next to the old man’s white one, making a deliberate challenge.
A second later a white stone slammed onto the board.
“I first used this thirty-two years ago, during the second Meijin preliminaries. My opponent was so startled he shook the board and spilled half the stones onto the floor…”
Ko Yeongha bent forward, and took note.
A/N: This is an experimental fic. I'm not sure why I chose to only use pronouns for Ko Yeongha, but it came out that way, and I took care to keep it consistent. Originally I was going to make this a silly fic about Yeongha and Kuwabara-sensei swapping notes on the many ways they troll their opponents before/during/after a game, but it ended up being more of Yeongha's attempt at a pissing contest and losing, l-lol. Oh well, he learns better in the end?
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Gen, one-shot, slight humor
Characters: Ko Yeongha, Kuwabara-sensei
Summary: Ko Yeongha goes to Kuwabara-sensei for some private instruction.
Private Instruction
He was used to the smell of tobacco. Though it wasn’t something he liked per se, it didn’t make him uncomfortable the way it did other professionals his age. There had been more than one pro who’d used this to his advantage, and he knew without a doubt that this was the case now.
The old man sitting across the table from him seemed to realize that he was immune to this tactic, for the cigarette was put out after a mere four puffs. That was all to the good as far as he was concerned. Being used to the smell of tobacco didn’t necessarily translate to liking it. He was fond of the Armani dress shirt he wore now, and didn’t want to spend money to wash the stink out of the fabric. The dry-cleaners were expensive.
I’ve heard of you,” the old professional said, leaning back into the chair, a grizzled eyebrow covering one eye.
“I’m honored,” he replied, smiling to hide his not-quite-mastery of the language.
“Of course you are,” the man said, letting out a bray of laughter that was deafening. It had probably startled many a player before, during and after a game. It had startled him, but he was far too well practiced to give any hint of that. “Well? And what brings you here?”
“What any go player seeks,” he said, spreading his arms out in mock supplication, “a game with a Master.”
“You flatter me.” A new cigarette was lit, but the old man did not inhale. “What are you waiting for then? The board is between us. Shall we begin?”
“Nigiri is fine?” he asked. “Or should I place some stones?”
“Hmph. Depends on who you’re placing it for,” the old man retorted. “Nigiri.”
The played the opening sequences in silence, though he never allowed himself to be caught up in the game. Black and white formed familiar patterns on the board, but there was nothing exciting to pull him in, nothing to make him lose himself in the game. These were old paths, treaded by hundreds of players before him.
“Bored?” the old man asked.
“Never,” he replied immediately.
“Yet you’ve allowed your attention to wander,” his opponent pointed out. The man played another all too-conventional hand.
“Give me a reason not to,” he said.
In answer, the old man placed a stone that was considered a conventional response to his previous move.
This time though, he paused, reading the deeper meaning behind the well-worn paths.
“I see,” he said.
“Oh? You do, do you?”
“Yes. You sought to irritate me with these moves, knowing that I was seeking something else.” He pointed to the old professional’s recently placed stone. “This stone, though it is not brilliant by any stretch of the imagination, when considered as an emotional attack against an opponent, is genius. Or would have been,” he said, “had I not been waiting for you to do something like this.”
There was a slight pause.
“You. Tell me your name again.”
“Ko Yeongha, Master Kuwabara.”
“Ah. Well, Ko-kun, you are a faster learner than Ogata-kun.” There was another pause as the old man let out another loud bray of laughter. “He was always a reluctant student though.”
“I recognize a Master when I see one,” he said. “Your tactics are legendary even in Korea.”
“You made a name for yourself last year also. That performance in front of Shindou-kun.” Gnarled hands played absently with a white stone. “If you want my opinion, your execution was clumsy. You attacked more than one person with those comments of yours.”
“It had been spur of the moment,” he said, though it irked him to hear his own private thoughts on the incident voiced as a criticism.
“Is that the excuse you’re going to give me when you resign?”
“Hardly. Though Shindou would not have understood anything less blunt,” he said, choosing to play elsewhere on the board.
“He would not have understood anything you said anyway, though the boy is eloquent enough on the board,” the Master said, laughing. Ignoring his stone, the old man attached to another stone instead. “For that matter, neither would I. I am not as intelligent as you, learning another language in a year, and now I am too old to try.”
“So you’re saying I could have said anything, since he wouldn’t have understood anything I said at the time anyway?”
“Isn’t that what I just said? But you missed the part where I told you that such a thing wouldn’t work on Shindou during a game. Perhaps you are not as bright as I had thought.”
He conceded his loss with a bow of his head.
“I was right to come to you.”
“Ah. Took you long enough to realize that.” No longer paying any attention to the board, the old man took a deep whiff of his cigarette.
Realizing that the Master was waiting for him to play the next move, he placed a black stone next to the old man’s white one, making a deliberate challenge.
A second later a white stone slammed onto the board.
“I first used this thirty-two years ago, during the second Meijin preliminaries. My opponent was so startled he shook the board and spilled half the stones onto the floor…”
Ko Yeongha bent forward, and took note.
A/N: This is an experimental fic. I'm not sure why I chose to only use pronouns for Ko Yeongha, but it came out that way, and I took care to keep it consistent. Originally I was going to make this a silly fic about Yeongha and Kuwabara-sensei swapping notes on the many ways they troll their opponents before/during/after a game, but it ended up being more of Yeongha's attempt at a pissing contest and losing, l-lol. Oh well, he learns better in the end?