HikaGo ficnote #2
Mar. 13th, 2003 11:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
petroniaIt's in 2nd person, which is interesting. 3rd person means I'm directing, see, and 1st person means I've really bunkered down in the character's brain - or s/he's bunkered down in mine, same difference. By that logic, 2nd person means I've abdicated my duties and handed them over. It's not something I normally even think of doing, but Akira's such a responsible little prig, uninclined to jump the curb or spring lateral surprises. "So, Touya-kun, what do you think is/was really going on here?" And he tells me, and I write it down.
...He's so clueless he can't even hear himself.
(Because, ya t00b! Because when you "fall" it implies... ah, whatthehell. Just keep talking. >_>)
...'Kay, y'all know what: you can have the one consecutive-paragraph snippet there is in all this. So you can see what I mean when I ramble.
***
When you look back on your life you see Shindou's advent as a singularity, akin to a moment from classic science-fiction. The aliens landing their gleaming ships on the well-trimmed lawns of America, emerging with their spindly limbs lifted in peace: take us to your leader. Just like that. Radioactive monsters emerging from the sea. Nothing anyone could have predicted, and in the space of a breath everything unavoidably, irrevocably changed.
The space of a game...
You were not born for Shindou, nor Shindou for you. But it is difficult for you to remember that.
There is a central mystery to all this, the pattern of which you came to see only gradually. At first it seemed as simple as tumbling downhill, and so you did exactly that. It's ironic - you think - that people talk of falling in love but only of engaging in rivalry. It should be the other way around; certainly love has never knocked the breath out of you, or made you feel that the bad landing had broken a few bits about you you'd rather have kept intact. Not that you admitted any such thing at the time. You picked yourself up, told yourself it was a stumble, and kept walking. Ignored the limp and the palpable bruises.
Now you think you weren't so much obdurate as utterly lacking in any basis for comparison. Your life before the singularity had been flat, the horizon distant but dependable. It was destiny manifest that your first fall should be off a cliff taller than any you've encountered thereafter.
Sai.
Sai is an abstraction. Sai is physically elusive. Sai could very well be the best player of his generation, if his hands were not like the merciless re-enactment of some ancient kifu whose results had been determined centuries since. Sai is an emergent system, the ghost in the machine. Sai is embodied in Shindou Hikaru, but Shindou Hikaru is not Sai. Or perhaps it is the other way around. It is like a koan, that only makes sense after one's logic has been utterly humbled.
You didn't think of him as Sai, of course. Not at the beginning.
***
...He's so clueless he can't even hear himself.
(Because, ya t00b! Because when you "fall" it implies... ah, whatthehell. Just keep talking. >_>)
...'Kay, y'all know what: you can have the one consecutive-paragraph snippet there is in all this. So you can see what I mean when I ramble.
***
When you look back on your life you see Shindou's advent as a singularity, akin to a moment from classic science-fiction. The aliens landing their gleaming ships on the well-trimmed lawns of America, emerging with their spindly limbs lifted in peace: take us to your leader. Just like that. Radioactive monsters emerging from the sea. Nothing anyone could have predicted, and in the space of a breath everything unavoidably, irrevocably changed.
The space of a game...
You were not born for Shindou, nor Shindou for you. But it is difficult for you to remember that.
There is a central mystery to all this, the pattern of which you came to see only gradually. At first it seemed as simple as tumbling downhill, and so you did exactly that. It's ironic - you think - that people talk of falling in love but only of engaging in rivalry. It should be the other way around; certainly love has never knocked the breath out of you, or made you feel that the bad landing had broken a few bits about you you'd rather have kept intact. Not that you admitted any such thing at the time. You picked yourself up, told yourself it was a stumble, and kept walking. Ignored the limp and the palpable bruises.
Now you think you weren't so much obdurate as utterly lacking in any basis for comparison. Your life before the singularity had been flat, the horizon distant but dependable. It was destiny manifest that your first fall should be off a cliff taller than any you've encountered thereafter.
Sai.
Sai is an abstraction. Sai is physically elusive. Sai could very well be the best player of his generation, if his hands were not like the merciless re-enactment of some ancient kifu whose results had been determined centuries since. Sai is an emergent system, the ghost in the machine. Sai is embodied in Shindou Hikaru, but Shindou Hikaru is not Sai. Or perhaps it is the other way around. It is like a koan, that only makes sense after one's logic has been utterly humbled.
You didn't think of him as Sai, of course. Not at the beginning.
***
