“Maybe I’d give it a rest if I wasn’t surrounded by senile old men who think Sai was the actual ghost of Shusaku. He knocks it off with a twist, shooting a quick glare at him. “It might be time to let it rest,“ Ashiwara starts, hand sliding over Ogata’s wrist. “Touya-sensei has spent the past five years denying anything he could tell us about Sai.” Ogata bolts upright, placing the empty glass on the side table with enough force to make everyone wince. “No one is doubting he existed, least of all father.” The ice in his drink clinks as he takes a hard sip, draining the glass in a long swallow.Īkira presses into Hikaru’s thigh once more before pulling away, retreating to his default Go posture, kneeling, back straight, head tall, and palms loose and facedown upon his knees. “Oh, are you back to acting like Sai was a collective hallucination of the international Go world?” Ogata asks, brimming with sarcasm. “I don’t know why he pretends to chase after every new major Japanese player when none of them are Sai,” Ogata says, eyes boring into Hikaru.Īshiwara groans as he thunks the refilled Go bowl onto the board. “There’s a game he’s scheduled with someone in the Kansai league that won’t be held for a few more days.” Akira lets his hand slide across the floor to the side of Hikaru’s thigh, apologetic but a soothing touch all the same. Hikaru snaps the fan shut and smacks the flat of it into his palm. “You technically live with your parents,” Ogata presses, “no matter how attached at the hip you are to your boyfriend.” Ogata waves away the complaint with a twist of his wrist, drink in hand. “These losers won’t even stay at their own apartment, seesh!” “Being shameless explains why two grown-ass men keep following your dad around Tokyo like Go groupies,” he says loudly, completely defeating the purpose of the fan. Hikaru snorts and snaps his fan open, hiding his mouth as he leans back into Akira’s shoulder as if to whisper in his ear. “His entire existence is shameful,” Akira mutters from where he’s kneeling on a cushion next to Hikaru. He nearly kicks Ashiwara in the face, and with a scowl, hooks his legs over the arm of the chair, sending him into an even more indolent, disheveled pose. “Akira-kun saw every walk of shame I had back then.” “Did you forget I used to live here?” Ogata drawls while Ashiwara swipes at his ankles, trying to make him move so he can reach the farthest flung stones. Hikaru smacks his fan against the edge of the table. His elbow knocks over a Go bowl, sending pieces skittering across the floor behind him and under the armchair Ogata is lounging on. “Ogata, they’re children!” Ashiwara whirls around where he’s kneeling across a board from Hikaru. “You can put away your raging hard-on for Honinbo Shusaku now,” he tells Hikaru with a roll of his eyes. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for his personality. Ogata Seiji, like any Go professional in their prime, gets better at the game with each passing year.
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