Unfortunately for her and for us all,I drew an entirely different conclusion about what Gmail was attempting to say in its omniscient glory.
The blatant huffing draws Akira down the hallway and to the study, against his better judgment.
"Hey, Touya," Hikaru says without looking up from where he is making angry faces at the monitor. "You set up this email account for me but you set it up wrong."
"Did I?" Akira scoffs.
"Yeah," Hikaru says. "These ads keep appearing on the side of the page."
"It's gmail, Shindou," Akira says dryly. "That's what it's supposed to look like."
"Yeah, I know that, but -" Hikaru breaks off, huffs again, and finally waves vaguely at the monitor. "See for yourself."
Akira sighs and approaches Hikaru's desk. Hikaru's email is a mess of unsorted messages, almost all of which are from Akira. And unreplied to. Though that may be a personal form of revenge for the fact that Akira has Hikaru's phone set permanently to spamblock after the last tournament qualifier - when Hikaru sent Akira so many angry texts decrying his poor showing against Ogata that Akira had been approached by tournament officials during the game break to ask him if there was some sort of emergency back home - so Akira can't quite hold it against him.
When he gets near enough to read the screen, however, he sees the offense immediately:
"Ah," Akira says, straightening up from where he had been leaning over Hikaru's shoulder.
"SEE?" Hikaru says, jabbing the monitor viciously.
With the experience borne of years practicing his best poker face around Hikaru, Akira responds gravely, "Yes. Yes, of course. It's very strange."
"I'LL SAY IT'S STRANGE!"
"Right," says Akira. "It should be blatantly obvious that you don't need tips in Go."