Title: Korean Idol, Part 3
Author: Luce Red
Series: Hikaru no Go
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of Hotta and Obata, as well as Jump
and Shueisha.
Notes/Type: general fic, suggestions of smut, wackiness, Bae Yon-jun references. Implied
AkiraHikaru. Part 1 here,
Part 2 here.
Summary: Fandom bites back.
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A year before, if anyone had asked, Hikaru would have been perfectly at ease at describing this particular friend as a polite, sweet-tempered person who always considered the needs of other people first. Playing Go together had always been enjoyable because of this. Since his most recent Seoul trip, though, Hikaru had been forced to reconsider his earlier assessment.
Akari was mean.
Hikaru panted as he ran all the way to the subway station, noting with a sinking heart the time on his watch. He’d been queuing through the night, along with another five hundred Bae Yong-jun fans, at the entrance of the New World Hotel. Come this afternoon, the Korean star would arrive in Tokyo, and meet his fans at the hotel, fend off marriage proposals, and perhaps sign a few autographs.
It didn’t matter that there was a game that he wanted to watch in the afternoon; Akari had simply said, “But you can queue until noon, right?”
Hikaru had said, “Of course, Akari.”
She and her friends arrived at noon to take over his spot in the queue, giving him just enough time to rush home, shower, grab some ramen and rush again to the Go Institute. It was important to remember that he still owed her for losing her first copy of that dratted book—autographed by that ‘Yon-sama’ on his last trip to Seoul, subsequently lost in a freak accident that he was trying his best to forget—and in fact, it was no small mercy that it was hers. If he had lost his mother’s copy, life would not have been worth living.
Before he left, Akari had just struck up a conversation with another group of fans in the queue, discussing—of all things—the desirability of Korean men. The reasoning, he found, was that men from the country that ‘Yon-sama’ hailed from must all be as nice and gentle.
I don’t believe it, Hikaru thought. Idol-worship has gone to her head. He’d left before he could remind her about Ko Yong-ha; Hikaru still prided himself on a sense of self-preservation.
He hadn’t actually planned to tell her what had happened in Seoul, but when it looked like she was about to bring out the big wooden mallet, he had panicked and confessed everything. She hadn’t tried to brain him with a go-ke, but it was close.
Girls are scary, he thought, pausing as he finally reached the Go Institute, with two minutes to spare. Taking another deep breath, he entered the building and ran all the way up to the fifth floor, putting all thoughts of Bae Jong-jun fever out of his mind.
***
The game was deep in progress; Hikaru shifted from a kneeling posture to a cross-legged one, his tiredness forgotten as he watched the movements on the Go board.
Sai had once said, back then in those days, that Touya Akira would one day be capable of baring his fangs freely at his opponents. Having grown up with Sai's brilliance at Go, Hikaru had come to take his rival's strength and ruthlessness in his stride. It never bothered him, as it seemed to do Waya, how unstoppable Akira could be when he played Go. His rival only looked calm—when he marched into a fight, the mask came off. This game, Hikaru thought, this game was a complete doozy.
Yeah, those fangs were definitely showing. Claws too. Bright and gleaming, no doubt, each movement proclaiming "Mine! Mine!"
Briefly, he wondered why his rival seemed to be going all out to beat Yong-ha. Of course, there was no way Akira would let the other pro win easily, but it seemed to Hikaru that his rival was going all out to make sure that Yong-ha’s stones had no hope of ever surviving. He wasn’t just working towards a victory: Akira was building towards total annihilation. It was as if he had some grudge against Yong-ha, but what? He wasn’t like Hikaru, who could still be riled by the reminder of Yong-ha’s remarks about Shuusaku. He was fairly sure Yong-ha hadn’t offended Akira…
Hikaru winced inwardly as Akira cut off Ko Yong-ha's group in the middle; his rival was playing very aggressively today. Each hand was poised to attack, and to dominate: almost possessive. Or was that masterful? Either way, it was making his insides tingle with excitement. Sometimes it took games like these to make him appreciate Akira’s skill even more. The way Akira’s eyes flashed as he placed each hand, the look of concentration burning on his face and his air of utter confidence; Yong-ha didn’t have a chance. Oh, yes, fangs.
With an inner curse, Hikaru dismissed the image from his mind and tried to concentrate on the game. Come to think of it, there was also the way Akira slapped the stones down, each movement precise and sure. Akira’s confidence was always sexy. Oh, yes, claws.
Wait. Was he getting turned on by the way Akira was trouncing his opponent?
"No. Way," Hikaru muttered to himself, stopping himself from continuing that thought by sheer willpower. He refused to consider any line of thought that could potentially destroy his and Akira's construction of platonic competition.
More importantly, he was not contemplating any situation that could lead to the use of Go stones for, ah, inappropriate purposes.
Go, he reminded himself, was not an erotic sport.
A murmur rose around him as Yong-ha bowed to resign. Waya, Isumi and Ochi, not to mention Kurata, already talking about the game. Hikaru inched forward so they could start the discussion, then fell back on his ass in surprise when Yong-ha stood up abruptly. His eyes fell on Hikaru. “Shindou-san,” the Korean pro said.
“Ahh. Ko-san,” Hikaru greeted.
Yong-ha was glaring at him, which put Hikaru in mind of a certain staring incident on his last trip to Seoul that he’d been trying to forget. The other pros turned their heads to look directly at them in confusion.
“Er…” Hikaru stuttered, before he glanced helplessly at Akira, hoping for a distraction. Then he blinked. There was a rather strange smile on his rival’s face; was Akira smirking?! “Aki… I mean, Touya?”
“Did I tell you about an interesting conversation I had last night with Fujisaki-san, Shindou?” Touya said.
“Huh?” Hikaru said stupidly. Akari had come by last evening to make sure he went to queue up for Bae Yong-jun, while he and Akira were discussing games. She had stayed to talk to Akira while Hikaru bundled up in his warmest clothes for an overnight queue. The other shoe dropped. “She told you?” he exclaimed. His voice came out in an embarrassing squawk.
“You really should have told me, Shindou,” his rival said seriously.
This was dangerous territory, Hikaru decided. He might play Go but it hadn’t dulled his instincts for danger. Much. “Ah… Sorry?” he said.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Akira decided, before he focused his eyes on Yong-ha again. “And next time Ko-san will be careful not to focus his attention on territory that does not belong to him, right?” he said, looking at the Korean pro.
Hikaru could hear Waya asking Isumi, “Are they talking about the game?”
Ko-san’s glare turned into a frown, and he turned to walk out of the room.
Kurata congratulated Akira on the five-and-a-half moku win.
***
The discussion—held without Yong-ha—only lasted an hour, for Akira had pleaded exhaustion soon after, and Kurata had finally decided to continue it another day. It was, after all, only a semi-formal game. Hikaru rubbed his tired eyes, wishing he could just go home and sleep.
“There’s a big group of people outside the Go Institute!” Waya noticed, when they reached the lobby. “What are they doing here?”
“Are they waiting for someone important?” Isumi wondered.
“At the Go Institute?” Waya snorted. “Looks like they’re all girls… some look like office ladies.”
Hikaru and Akira frowned at the crowd too, wondering if it was safe to go out by the main entrance.
“Ko-san?” they heard Ochi say. “What are you doing here? I thought you had left already.”
Sure enough, Ko Yong-ha was standing in a corner of the lobby, periodically aiming looks at the lobby. “Are they still there?” he asked.
If Hikaru didn’t know better, he would have sworn that Yong-ha sounded worried.
“Who? The girls?” Waya asked. He looked outside again. “They seem to be shouting something.” He listened. “Something about ‘Yon-sama’? What’s that?”
Kurata wasn’t having it. “I’m hungry and I want my dinner,” he said. “It’s just fangirls. They must have the wrong place. Come on, we’ll go out together. Waya-kun, Shindou-kun, Ko-san, let’s go.”
They went out reluctantly, walking slightly behind him as though to hide behind Kurata’s portly figure.
As soon as the group of girls—Hikaru counted about fifty—saw them, they let out a shrill scream that nearly shattered the windows. “KO YONG-HA!”
Yong-ha took a step back, but the girls had surged forward, ignoring all of them, even Isumi.
“You’re from Korea, right?” One of them asked in a high-pitched voice.
“Akari-chan said that Korean men were so sensitive and sexy!”
“She said you knew Yon-sama!”
“Akari-chan was right! He looks so gentle…”
“Just like Yon-sama!”
“Do you have a girlfriend, Ko-san?”
“Akari-chan said he doesn’t have a girlfriend…”
“That’s right! He looks just like Yon-sama!” The crowd of girls gave ear-splitting screams and closed around Yong-ha, hiding him from view.
Waya muttered, “What are we, dried fish?” but the others all shushed him and pulled him through the crowd.
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