[Hikaru doesn't know what to do or say or think in response to any of this. Last night, Touya looked at her the way a fumigator looks at an infested household, and she said she wouldn't allow for any embarrassing results from the new first board. Well, she couldn't stop Hikaru from embarrassing herself, her team, her profession, her nation, or her entire fucking gender. It makes sense why women have their own leagues, why they're segregated, because every failure isn't individual, not like it is with men. It's systemic. It's everywhere, and it's all wound up in everything. It's the whole kit and fucking caboodle, and that's why it's such bullshit. Touya must be so disappointed, and it's just her fault, you know, all her fault, for compelling Hikaru to try to do this in the first place. It's her fault for being the best player of their generation and believing Hikaru can even come close to her level.
The more Touya says to her, the more this feels like some sort of confession. It isn't a good feeling. Hikaru is starting to taste a bit of that jackrabbit fear, that perverse need to run away, to climb higher, to keep going and going. She can't live up to Touya's expectations, much less the legacy of a dead genius, much less Sai's final wish to play the Divine Move. Being asked which title she wants hooks a laugh out of her lungs, her throat, all steel edge that hurts so much. Women have their own leagues, right, of course they do, which Hikaru didn't know about when she mouthed off in front of Touya as a half-wit of an eleven-year-old. But Touya isn't talking about the women-only leagues right at this moment.
Hikaru laughs again, a bitter buckling of her throat, before she says,] I was still an insei when I decided I would be taking Honinbou first. [And she knows that's only going to invite more questions about Shuusaku, and what Shuusaku means to her, and what she's hiding in her opaque past. Wearily, she pats Touya's handkerchief against her mouth one more time, then brings it back down.] Not that I'd be upset to land any of the others, but if I got to choose, it'd have to be... yeah, it's going to be Honinbou. Shindou Honinbou. I've already picked out what name I'll have as Honorary Honinbou, too.
[Why are they even talking about this? It's like two little girls discussing the people they want to marry someday--the stuff of dreams that's meant for childish whispers behind hands and the giggling to match. Maybe Touya's doing this to try to say something about why they're even doing this at all. There is no end, there's no end to it, but there are destinations along the way, important ones, life-changing and everything. There's an overgrown landscape they're both looking to bulldoze and rebuild in their own image.
Like a receding wave, Hikaru's desire to run disappears into exhaustion, then whatever's lower and sadder than exhaustion itself. She's too fucking tired to do anything. Mostly, she wants to crawl back to her room and sleep for the rest of the day, forgoing all niceties. She wouldn't really mind if Touya wanted to join her, either.] --Meijin? For you, I mean... [She looks over at Touya, then looks away.] I'm guessing that's the one you want. [It's the most prestigious title, after all, in the modern consciousness and context.] That's probably my second or third choice, so I'd let you have it for a while before I come and take it from you. [This is the hot shit she's known for, the haughtiness, the audacity--but there's no heat to back her up now. Her smirk is grim and ashen, and it's a little too self-aware.]
no subject
[Hikaru doesn't know what to do or say or think in response to any of this. Last night, Touya looked at her the way a fumigator looks at an infested household, and she said she wouldn't allow for any embarrassing results from the new first board. Well, she couldn't stop Hikaru from embarrassing herself, her team, her profession, her nation, or her entire fucking gender. It makes sense why women have their own leagues, why they're segregated, because every failure isn't individual, not like it is with men. It's systemic. It's everywhere, and it's all wound up in everything. It's the whole kit and fucking caboodle, and that's why it's such bullshit. Touya must be so disappointed, and it's just her fault, you know, all her fault, for compelling Hikaru to try to do this in the first place. It's her fault for being the best player of their generation and believing Hikaru can even come close to her level.
The more Touya says to her, the more this feels like some sort of confession. It isn't a good feeling. Hikaru is starting to taste a bit of that jackrabbit fear, that perverse need to run away, to climb higher, to keep going and going. She can't live up to Touya's expectations, much less the legacy of a dead genius, much less Sai's final wish to play the Divine Move. Being asked which title she wants hooks a laugh out of her lungs, her throat, all steel edge that hurts so much. Women have their own leagues, right, of course they do, which Hikaru didn't know about when she mouthed off in front of Touya as a half-wit of an eleven-year-old. But Touya isn't talking about the women-only leagues right at this moment.
Hikaru laughs again, a bitter buckling of her throat, before she says,] I was still an insei when I decided I would be taking Honinbou first. [And she knows that's only going to invite more questions about Shuusaku, and what Shuusaku means to her, and what she's hiding in her opaque past. Wearily, she pats Touya's handkerchief against her mouth one more time, then brings it back down.] Not that I'd be upset to land any of the others, but if I got to choose, it'd have to be... yeah, it's going to be Honinbou. Shindou Honinbou. I've already picked out what name I'll have as Honorary Honinbou, too.
[Why are they even talking about this? It's like two little girls discussing the people they want to marry someday--the stuff of dreams that's meant for childish whispers behind hands and the giggling to match. Maybe Touya's doing this to try to say something about why they're even doing this at all. There is no end, there's no end to it, but there are destinations along the way, important ones, life-changing and everything. There's an overgrown landscape they're both looking to bulldoze and rebuild in their own image.
Like a receding wave, Hikaru's desire to run disappears into exhaustion, then whatever's lower and sadder than exhaustion itself. She's too fucking tired to do anything. Mostly, she wants to crawl back to her room and sleep for the rest of the day, forgoing all niceties. She wouldn't really mind if Touya wanted to join her, either.] --Meijin? For you, I mean... [She looks over at Touya, then looks away.] I'm guessing that's the one you want. [It's the most prestigious title, after all, in the modern consciousness and context.] That's probably my second or third choice, so I'd let you have it for a while before I come and take it from you. [This is the hot shit she's known for, the haughtiness, the audacity--but there's no heat to back her up now. Her smirk is grim and ashen, and it's a little too self-aware.]