hikarunogo | Isumi Team Battle Drabble Post

Isumi/Waya - the classic

Isumi/Le Ping - the newer model

Isumi was lying peacefully on his bed, leafing through a crumpled Go Weekly magazine, one that had appeared just when they left to China and which Yang Hai had kindly found for him from somewhere, when the door suddenly banged open and Le Ping stormed inside. The intensity in the boy's eyes was as great as in his most important games, when he truly bothered to concentrate on what he was doing and didn't just fool around. Isumi looked at him in surprise as he dropped to sit on Yang Hai's bed, crossing his legs and arms, and fixed his glare at the older boy. Isumi lowered the magazine, sat up and opened his mouth to ask what was wrong.

"I've made my mind," Le Ping announced before he got a word out. "This'll have to end."

Isumi blinked, quite confused. "What will have to end?"

"You!" An accusing finger pointed at him. "You talking all the time about that Waya!"

Isumi blinked again. "He is my best friend - back home," he added, as the other boy's expression darkened. "Am I not allowed to talk about my friends?"

"Best friend, for sure," Le Ping muttered under his breath. "Waya this and Waya that, all the time it's just Waya Waya Waya... do other people keep on blabbering about their best friends like that? Whatever!" he exclaimed when Isumi was about to protest that he didn't talk about Waya that much. (Surely he didn't, did he?) "Okay, so maybe you can talk about him if you must. But at least stop comparing me to him all the time."

His gaze locked with Isumi's, and the older boy found himself quite at a loss of words, taken aback by the sheer anger in those blazing eyes. "Well, I guess... that is, if you..."

"I mean, what am I?!" Le Ping cut him off again, waving his arms angrily, and Yang Hai's pants that had been lying on the bed went flying. "Some kind of a copy? A backup? A new model? Waya 2.1?"

"Okay, okay!" Isumi raised his hands soothingly. "I get it. I'm sorry, I never meant to offend you."

Le Ping snorted, arms again crossed on his chest, and the pout on his face brought Waya so vividly into Isumi's mind that to hide his confusion he bent down to pick Yang Hai's pants up from the floor and threw them back on the bed. Shooting an awkward glance at the still quite grumpy-looking small boy he cleared his throat self-consciously and stood up.

"Hey, if you're not doing anything, why don't we go out for a chance? I'll buy you an ice-cream or something."

"Yeah!" Le Ping jumped up, bad humor instantly forgotten, his face turning into one big grin. A new Waya model? Isumi found himself pondering as he followed the boy out of the room. I wonder if there's been any improvements, passed through his mind, and then he mentally kicked himself for thinking such bad thoughts.

(Hahah, that'd seem to be 501 words. xD)

(no subject)

onkoona - 2012-04-09 22:02 (UTC) - Expand

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tuuli-chan.livejournal.com - 2012-04-10 11:26 (UTC) - Expand

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qem_chibati - 2012-04-19 10:58 (UTC) - Expand

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tuuli-chan.livejournal.com - 2012-04-21 19:43 (UTC) - Expand

Isumi/Tsuitsui - the surprise

Isumi/Ogata - the experienced older man

Isumi/Kuwabara - the more experienced older man

Isumi/Yang Hai -confidence is sexy

Isumi/Nase - ultimate catch

Drat! Mum saw Isumi-kun. And now she’s got all kinds of stupid ideas in her head.

Last week she made me take him a bento that turned out to have pink hearts all over it. I could just have died!

Now yesterday, she contrived to be around the institute just as I was getting my tutoring session from Isumi-kun. And she just stood there and gushed about wedding ceremonies! ARG!

/sigh/ I wish I could get it through her head that Go is all we really have in common. And that we only want to play together, not live together…

Re: Drabble - "Son-in-law Isumi?"

qem_chibati - 2012-04-07 21:19 (UTC) - Expand

Isumi/Touya - bedazzled by Go

Isumi/Ochi - megane power

Isumi/Yeongha - still the prettiest

Isumi/Hikaru - something special

Isumi/Go - the ultimate ending

One hundred and three. That is how many long, long years Isumi Shinichirou has lived on this earth. Despite being the eldest in his group of friends, he has outlived them all - even the tenacious Waya - by a good ten years.

Today is the day that he will die. Isumi doesn't know this so much as feels it in his bones - a wisdom that comes with age, perhaps. It is an otherwise uneventful day - he is sitting in his favorite armchair in his respectfully modest house, a game laid out before him as he toys idly with the stones in his goke. He is alone - and yet he's not, as he lays out the games of those long since past; of those he still holds most dear.

It is a beautifully clear day, the blue sky beckoning to those who would heed its call, stray rays of sun making the goban shine more than something so old ought to. The game calls to him, and he takes a moment to remember the day it was played. It is a fond memory, like so many of his memories are.

On an otherwise ordinary day, a game laid out on an old goban, Isumi sits, completely unafraid to die. It is almost uneventful; birds soaring through the light breeze, squirrels frolicking between the trees as wrinkled and weathered fingers place the final stone. Blue eyes crinkle at the edges as Isumi smiles one last time.

It is not the perfect game, nor even the best move, but it is his, and that is all that matters.

Isumi leans back in his chair and draws his last breath, regretting nothing.

Re: At Peace

inoru_no_hoshi - 2012-04-11 04:59 (UTC) - Expand

Re: At Peace

verys - 2012-04-11 07:38 (UTC) - Expand

Vampire Touya! :D

It is a matter of elimination really.
- Shindou is his rival.
- Ogata is his teacher.
- His father is, well, his father.
- Nase is, urg, a girl.
- Waya is just urg.
- Morishita is just too much like his father
- Kuwabara would be too stale.
- Kurata, too fat.

So, that really only left Isumi, Shinichiro, 3-dan. He’s young, healthy, lean, moderately talented. Not that that mattered right now. Right now, "young and healthy" are what’s important, keep your mind on the subject!

Touya Akira, 5-dan Go Pro, dons his midnight cloak and ditto mask and steps out his 5 story high bedroom window. There’d be a good night hunting tonight!

Re: Drabble: "I have a little list"

qem_chibati - 2012-04-05 10:05 (UTC) - Expand

Isumi - What does Go mean to me?

Hi! I'm new here, and not part of any team, but it looks like I can still play? This doesn't strictly answer the prompt but is sort of close.

*****

There are many things you have lost faith in over the years, but it is not until you resign to Shindo that you understand what it means to lose faith in your go. Since as far back as you can remember, you have had an innate understanding of the patterns and shapes that make up a game, a feel for the give and take inherent in the competition. All of that is fading before your eyes, crumbling to dust beneath the fingers gripping the cloth of your pants. Instead of a clear path, you see a cliff’s edge looming over an expanse of emptiness.

For the first time in your life, you are afraid.

If somebody had asked you, ten minutes ago, whether you had ever been afraid, you would have scoffed. You have always been confident in your go, and that has carried over into the other parts of your life. Even with what others perceived as failures, you always stayed focused on how you would grow from the experience. It isn’t until now that you have suddenly lost sight of the path forward.

Funny how quickly your life can change.

Your mind feels numb, the board in front of you a completely unknown entity. Black, white, what does all this mean anyway? You had defined yourself in terms of your go, and all it took was a few seconds to unravel the strands of your existence. There was a whole lifetime between the decision you made on your last move and the word makemashita falling from your lips.

You have lost, in the most obscene way imaginable, and this can be nothing but the beginning of the end.

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hostilecrayon - 2012-04-19 09:34 (UTC) - Expand

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qem_chibati - 2012-04-19 10:59 (UTC) - Expand

An interviewer asks for Isumi's thoughts on Shindou Hikaru.

Isumi gets stuck in an elevator with Touya Akira.

It was on the day of his Meijin Tournament prelim game against the other pro that the elevator broke down, with both of them on board. Isumi tried to keep is already unsteady nerves down by reminding himself that the lift broke down at least once a day and was usually fixed within 5 minutes.

He glanced at the other occupant of the lift; Touya Akira. The younger man looked bored, his eyes cold, staring straight at the closed doors. Isumi envied him his cold demeanor; he wished he could feel so cool under the pressure of the knock-out prelims.

Isumi had very seldom seen Touya being anything other than icy calm. The only times he was not was when he was playing Shindou and then he was usually angry.

Isumi even envied him his anger. It was an anger that spoke of a love for Go, a passion to be the best. Isumi wanted that passion, wanted that force of will. But he was well aware that he just didn’t have it in him. And unconsciously he knew he had already lost the game that awaited them at the top of the building, before he had even laid the first stone because of that lack.

The lift jarred back into motion and took them up to meet in ‘battle’.

"Going Up!" (part 2)

onkoona - 2012-04-09 11:08 (UTC) - Expand

Re: "Going Up!" (part 2)

verys - 2012-04-19 21:14 (UTC) - Expand

Isumi/Waya - Figure it out.

Isumi comes face to face with a ghost.

Of course Waya was to blame for it. Waya always was to blame, so what else was new? This time Waya was to blame for the fact that A: Isumi had missed a full night’s sleep and was dead tired to begin with. And B: Waya had not bothered to wake Isumi up after he had fallen asleep in the viewing room during the last tournament game of the day.

And so it was that when Isumi did wake up, the room was pitch black and the institute was utterly deserted. It was also locked, from the outside, as he found after going down to check. All the lifts were down and so was the electricity; a recent policy to reduce the institute’s bills. That left emergency lights only. Oh, just great!

Isumi hurried back up the stairs to the only room that had been at least moderately warm; the viewing room. On his way there he passed the open door of the Room of Profound Darkness, which at that moment was living up to its name in spades! Then suddely the short hairs on Isumi’s neck suddenly stood up, spreading goose bumps all the way down his back; he had spied a movement inside the room from the corner of his eye. He was not alone? Was there an intruder?

He stopped dead and stood perfectly still, trying to look into the room without turning his head. There! There it was again. He was now sure it was real! He, quickly and as silently as possible, slipped into the room, leaving the door open behind him. Now that he had his eyes facing forward he could see the dim outline of a figure. His hand found the switch of the emergency light on the wall and flipped it.

The room was flooded in a deep red light, illuminating a lone figure sitting in seiza at one side of the Goban as though he was quite innocently waiting for a game. Isumi was momentarily stunned by the figure and it was only partly due to the presence of the man (woman?) but more by his/her garb. The figure wore an outfit that Isumi had only ever seen in a Noh play; an outfit that off the stage was just plain outrages, idiotically long sleeves and super tall hat and all.

‘What – who -?’ Isumi stuttered.
It was only then that the figure looked up at him, an almost bored expression on his/her face. When Isumi said no more the figure turned his head back to the board, as though intently studying a game on it, though the Goban was totally empty.

‘Who are you?’ Isumi tried again.
At this the figure turned his/her head quickly towards the young Pro and said, ‘you can see me?’ The voice was low enough to be male.
‘Well, of course I can see you!’ Isumi was starting to get miffed now; what kind of nonsense was this?!

The figure’s face lit up with a wide smile. ‘Oh, how delightful!’ He cast his eyes up for a moment, clapping his sleeve covered hands together with a small but dull thud, exclaiming ‘Kami be thanked for this opportunity!’ He lowered his eyes back to Isumi and swept his hand, that was suddenly holding a closed fan, in the direction of the vacant seat across from him at the other side of the Goban and said, ‘I’ve been waiting long for a game with you Isumi-san, if you would take a seat please.’
It wasn’t until after he had sat down that Isumi remembered to close his mouth. Then, before he had a chance to speak, the strange figured started speaking again.

‘I am Fujiwara no Sai, pleased to meet you.’ The figure bowed and Isumi could not sop himself responding in kind, ‘Isumi Shinichiro, pleased to meet you.’

‘Alas, I am unable to touch to the stones!’ the figure continued in a effeminately lamenting tone. ‘If I may prevail upon your generosity to place my hands, I would indeed be very grateful,’ he said, again bowing.

Isumi found himself agreeing to this request and not for a moment did he find himself wondering why this Fujiwara could not play out his own moves. No, he didn’t wonder at any of the events so far at all, all he could think at first was that this was a strange dream indeed and that he’d murder Waya in the morning. Very shortly after that he forgot any thoughts of vengeance or anything else for that matter and could only think about formations and strategies, ‘cause this Fujiwara was a very worthy opponent indeed!

(780 words!)

Re: "The Pro and the Ghost"

qem_chibati - 2012-04-09 00:19 (UTC) - Expand

Isumi/Waya - Cheer up

Waya and Shindou are fighting over where to eat again. Naturally, Isumi finds himself put in the middle.

"Ramen, I say, ramen!"
"No way! We just had ramen!"
"Just? What do you mean just?! It was like, like..."
"Like yester-bleeping-day!"
"Hey, hey guys, calm down a bit..."
"So!? Yesterday was yesterday! Today's today! I wanna have ramen today!"
"Well, I WON'T! So shut up about it already."
"...people are staring, you know..."
"So what do you want to eat?"
"I'd..."
"Sushi."
"Sushi! What's up with you and sushi!"
"You do like sushi too!"
"Well, maybe, but I don't want it today!
"Hey, why don't we..."
"Rock-paper-scissors!"
"No WAY! you always win. You gotta cheat somehow..."
"Cheat?! How dare you..."
"Hey, please, don't start fighting..."
"Rrrrah-men!!!"
"Sushi, I say! Sushi!"
"Whatever. I'll be at the pizzeria, if you need me. Bye."

The Hand of God is all well and good, but Isumi plays for more practical reasons.

(This set in the same Isumi back-story as "Listen, Little Kitty")

Isumi had always been a practical boy. When he was an insei he lived at home and communed into town each Sunday. When he still hadn't attained pro status but was too old for insei class he took the opportunity of staying at the Chinese Go institute with both hands. And when he became working pro he moved into a shoebox apartment in the cheaper end of town, but still close enough to make the travel time to his clients and the Go institute doable.

Practical, yes, and self-reliant. Also without any family burdens, after all, everybody in his family was employed at the sewing machine factory, so no worries there. Yes, no worries, until that day in February that The Big One hit.

No one was hurt at the sewing machine factory and the building had survived the earthquake well enough. Not so the factory machinery. What with the continuing economic crisis in Japan of the last 20 years, the machines had not been replaced with newer ones in years and the shaking had been the last straw; the factory had had to close its doors. And the members of the Isumi family were now all out of a job. The only one employed was Isumi himself.

Reading the letter from his family had been the hardest thing he had ever done. And it made him cry the way they never once asked him to come back and help out or even for any monetary aid. No, all they wrote was how it would all be all right and that brother Jiro had found a part time job in the municipal sewage plant. And that Isumi's mother had changed her sewing hobby for a job in a low end clothing store that also offered mending services. And that they were very sure the others would find great jobs soon.

Isumi had always had a plan with his Go career. Reaching the Hand of God, yes, as a metaphor for creating a very well played game. He never had believed in fairytales; he was just a bit too practical for that. What he had envisioned was a nice and slow build-up to attain the wisdom and experience to create at well played game at such a moment he could win a title with it. He had planned to play in the /Oteai/ until he had reached at least the 4th dan level before even thinking about entering a tournament.

But now all he could think was that a Go pro gets paid a standard fee per official game, win or lose. Losing would only mean he would not get a chance to play another game in that particular tournament for another year. Of course he fully planned to win. Or try to anyway.

So, the next Monday, with hands shaking, he turned in his filled out forms for the prelims for the Kisei, Meijin, Honinbo, NEC, Tengen, Oza, Judan, Gosei and NHK tournaments.

And when he got home he decided to name his cat Gambatte.

(505 words)

Re: "Practical matters"

hostilecrayon - 2012-04-28 08:31 (UTC) - Expand

Re: "Practical matters"

onkoona - 2012-04-28 08:37 (UTC) - Expand

Re: "Practical matters"

qem_chibati - 2012-05-04 10:33 (UTC) - Expand

For some reason, Shindou decides to bring his troubles with Touya to Isumi.

“… yeah and you know what that jerk said?”

Normally this would be where one replied with “No, what?” but then again, normal conversations didn’t really loop around the same topic about seven times over (and counting).

“Yes. He said that the move was an insult to the god of Go,” Isumi replied, trying not to sound too bored.

If Isumi had thought that Hikaru would be surprised enough to be silent for the next twenty seconds, he was dead wrong. Hikaru just continued to ramble on about how Touya wouldn’t see the merit of that move – a move that Isumi didn’t really know about, seeing as Hikaru had unintentionally glossed over the game entirely in favour of ranting.

He picked up his cup of soda, only to discover it was empty. Well, it was to be expected. They had been there for a while, after all.

It was all Waya’s fault for unfortunately being unavailable, thought Isumi as he set the empty Styrofoam cup back on his tray. Why did he have to catch a cold on the day that Shindou and Touya had a match?

(Possibly because he knew that Shindou would be giving an overlong speech on the topic of his awesomeness and Touya, but Isumi is a good person at heart – he wouldn’t even think that Waya had intentionally thrown him to the sharks.)

(no subject)

hostilecrayon - 2012-04-28 08:17 (UTC) - Expand

Isumi finds himself the recipient of an anonymous love letter.

(I thought I was going to throw up writing this.)

It was there when he came to pick up his shoes after his ooteai match. An innocuous pink envelope sitting atop his shoes, with his name written on it. A name that he could barely make out under all the flourishes and hearts that had been scribbled around it.

Sealed with a garish heart sticker too, apparently. He should have known it was a matter of time, seeing how that gaggle of high school girls never failed to trail him to the Go Institute on days that he was scheduled to play. Yes, even on school days, but that was another point for another time. This was the first time he had received a letter, though.

To be fair, he should at least read it and tell its sender in no uncertain terms that he had no interest in starting a relationship at present, right? So he opened it right there in front of the shelf. His match had ended late because that shodan couldn’t find the heart to resign, so he was fairly sure there weren’t any nosy parkers *coughShindouandWayacough* to tease him mercilessly about it later.

Isumi-san, I love you! I’ve loved you since I saw your picture in Go weekly, looking totally hot and cool at the same time but you know what I mean, right?

And he stopped reading there before the bento he had for lunch could make a reappearance. Flipping over the heavily-scented pink paper (the letter had gone on for two whole pages), he discovered, to his chagrin, that there was no signature.

Well, he did make a fair attempt at trying to contact the sender, so it wasn’t his fault if he didn’t respond, right? Stuffing the letter into his backpack (he’d prefer to dispose of it in a trashcan further away from the Institute, in case said nosy parkers came upon it by accident), he put on his shoes and proceeded to make his way home.

-

“D’ya think he’s onto us?”

“No way, I made sure no one was around when I left it there.”

“But he just walked away…”

“Shindou, Isumi-san would have come straight to us if he thought we were behind it. He probably wants to make a detour or something.”

“He’s heading straight for the train station! How is this making a detour?”

Waya scoffed. “Isumi-san is too nice to leave a girl waiting under a tree, even if he doesn’t like her.”

Hikaru frowned, or pouted, it was a cross between the two. “I hope your cousin is a patient woman.”

“Please. I’ve never heard her snap at her kids, and that’s saying a lot. Little demons, they are. Relax, Shindou, it’s all going fine.”

Unbeknownst to the two boys lurking at the corner around the Go Institute attempting to look inconspicuous but failing horribly, a second piece of heavily-scented pink paper sat crushed at the bottom of Hikaru’s backpack, which, if unfolded, would have read:

I’ll be waiting for you under the tree by the side entrance.

Love
Yamaguchi Ayane

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hostilecrayon - 2012-04-28 08:19 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

onkoona - 2012-04-28 10:03 (UTC) - Expand

Waya thinks he's slick, but Isumi's known all along.

It was the night that Waya and Isumi had unexpectedly gotten roaring drunk. Not that they would get roaring drunk 'expectedly' much either, no, don't think that! But they would try to avoid getting drunk on nights before important games and stuff like that.

But that night they had. And Isumi, who was marginally the lesser drunk of the two, ended up hauling a softly snoring Waya up the 3 flights of stairs to Waya's tiny shoebox apartment. 'Trustworthy, dependable Isumi,' Isumi grouched under his breath. 'Always there to pick up the pieces. Literally,' he added as he hoisted Waya up a bit, because he'd started slipping.

Isumi managed to get them though the door and then, without tripping over the coffee table much, he plunked Waya on his own bed. Isumi had stayed over at Waya's many times before, so had no trouble to find the guest bedding. Well, almost no trouble; he'd opened the left hand door of the inbuilt storage instead of the right. And that's when it happened.

Isumi staggered back as reflex when it looked like a whole wall of pink and white fluff came at him. As it fell, Isumi automatically caught it and quickly realized that he was holding the biggest pink fluffy stuffed toy rabbit in the world, complete with floppy ears and a lacy dress with ribbons!

He decided to put the toy back where it came from. Isumi had always known Waya was a softy at heart. But as he stuffed the toy back in the closet and couldn’t help running his hands over the soft pink fake fur, he realized he hadn't know quite who much of a softy.

Re: "Mr. Cool Dude"

hostilecrayon - 2012-04-28 10:34 (UTC) - Expand

When Waya doesn't make a move, Isumi decides to take matters into his own hands.