Title: And the Waves Crashed on the Goban, 31 parts in all.
Series: Hikaru no Go
Disclaimer: Characters are the creation of Hotta and Obata. Touya's first lines in part 1 are lifted from Lois McMaster Bujold's Mirror Dance
Pairings: Shindou/Touya, Isumi/Le Ping
Type: mixture of drabbles and flashfics. Also, angst. And multiple POVs.
Summary: Everyone's searching for a miracle. Some think it's the Hand of God.
Notes: Written for the month of September themes in 31_days (mostly; there's a part 31 written after). Crossposted to the same (mostly).

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01: The words you’ve borrowed

"No! Shindou is not all that we have of Sai. Shindou is all that we have left of Shindou. You-"

By force of will, Touya stopped more words from leaving his mouth. Instead, he sat down again and made himself look at the doors on far wall, on anything but the red light above them. The doctors were still at work. Anytime now. Yet time seemed to have lost meaning...

He was aware of Waya turning to stare at him, and even in the blurred reflection of the glass-topped doors, he could see Waya's eyes widen in shock.

"You mean, you've known about Shindou and Sai all along?" Waya said. He straightened to his feet, and lunged towards Touya, as though to physically shake him. "You could have told someone!"

"He's not-" Touya forced himself to stop before he ended up betraying Shindou's confidence. He side-stepped Waya; his glare succeeded in keeping Waya away. "It's none of your business," he said finally, sure of that if nothing else.

"Yes, it is!" Waya retorted. "It's everyone's business who Sai is!"

"And for that you pushed Shindou into oncoming traffic?" Touya asked, making sure his whithering scorn was audible. At least it hid his panic.

He had not witnessed it happening, but it was as though he could see it in his mind's eye: Shindou always walked too close to the curb, and he had fallen onto the road a few times, especially when he and Touya were busy arguing about yet another game, and he had not paid attention to his feet.

Luckily, the roads had always been deserted (an advantage of playing late into the night) and Shindou had always laughed it off. But Touya could imagine it the danger all too easily: it only took one careless driver.

They said that the force of the collision had thrown Shindou into the air.

"It was an accident!" Waya said, more furious than Touya had ever seen him. "I didn't mean to push him that hard. How was I to know that he's so clumsy on his feet?"

He didn't use to be, Touya wanted to argue. Shindou used to boast about his physical agility and prowess in sports, especially in soccer, until Touya reminded that it all happened in elementary school--more than ten years ago. He remembered the look of chagrin in Shindou's face at that, and his embarrassed, grin-filled admission: "All that Go makes me dizzy, Akira."

Waya continued, his tone of resentment grating on Touya's ears. "I can't believe he's been keeping such a big secret from me. I got angry at him. He knows I've been trying to find out who Sai is, all these years!"

When Touya arrived at the hospital, Waya had still been pale--no, nearly green--with horror. He turned even greener at the sight of Touya. It was clear that Touya was the last person he wanted to see (more so than usual).

He had not realized that Touya was the second person Shindou-san phoned--right after her husband--even as she rushed down to the hospital herself. In the midst of hasty, ignored apologies and garbled explanations, Waya had uttered the name 'Sai'.

The Shindous didn't catch it, but Touya did, and he had persisted until he had the rest of the story.

"We were just talking," Waya said, almost to himself. He had revealed the course of events to Touya with the utmost reluctance only moments, yet now it seemed as though he couldn't stop. "I mentioned Sai. I always do. I said the only person who has won as many NetGo games as Sai is Shindou. And Shindou laughed and said, 'I'm strong, aren't I?' Then he got his strange look on his face. I probably wouldn't have noticed otherwise."

Touya didn't see how that mattered now.

"I thought at first that he was just borrowing Sai's words, but that expression made me sense that there was more. He denied it, but I saw it in his eyes," Waya said, his eyes taking on a hard glint. "How can he keep it a secret? He knows who Sai is!"

Touya started to answer, but stopped as Shindou's parents re-entered the waiting area. Shindou's father had come right from his office, but his tie was still askew, even now. He was dimly relieved to see that Shindou's mother looked much better, at least.

"Any news yet?" she asked immediately.

"Still in surgery," Touya said, standing up to make room for them. "Please sit down, Shindou-san. You fainted just now; you need to rest."

Waya had stopped talking when he saw Shindou's parents, and he now stood up as well, though it looked as though he was afraid of them. "I-I'm sorry," he said to them. "It w-was my fault. I-"

Shindou's father cut him off, his arm still around Shindou's mother. "Let's talk about that later, Waya-san."

Waya shrank, and hunched back on himself, miserable.

Touya ignored a brief stab of sympathy for him; his own overriding reaction was anger and he was determined to hold on to that, if only because anger seemed to be the only thing protecting him from the almost crippling fear.

What if-

Touya found himself clenching his hands. Shindou would be all right. Shindou Hikaru, who played too much Go and missed Sai too much and loved Touya too much--Shindou Hikaru had to be all right.

The red light went off at the same time the the doors to the operating theatre opened. They nearly bumped into the bespectacled figure in a surgical gown who exited, so fast were they: the Shindous clinging to each other, Touya who felt as though he was standing at the edge of a cliff, and Waya who stared at the surgeon with unseeing eyes, his breath stilled.

"How is he?" Touya asked, and felt distinct shock at the cold tone in his voice. He noticed an almost invisible speck of blood on the doctor's glasses. It was a woman, he noted, not a man as he had thought at first.

The Shindous tensed as they waited for the answer.

"Well, we've managed to save his life," the doctor said.

-----------------------------

02: You illustrate the sun’s true candor

His parents had come and gone. Even the Shindous had been persuaded to go home to rest. There was nothing more to do except to wait.

Touya sat down in the plastic chair, and without looking away, located his overnight bag which had been placed in a corner. He had been at the airport when he received Shindou-san's phone call. It was only later, after learning that Shindou's life was no longer in danger, that he remembered to call the Kyoto Go Institute to cancel his appointments.

Unable to resist the temptation, Touya pulled his sweater out of the bag. Shindou had always teased him about an argyle obsession, but it now comforted Touya to have the familiar garment in his hands, as though its presence would make Shindou wake up and start to tease him again.

Then again, if Shindou hadn't woke up at the dramatics that had taken place literally over his unconscious body just now, it was not likely that he would wake up now--yet.

"It's a pity you didn't hear what I said to him, Shindou," Touya whispered to him, and was surprised at the rawness in his voice. "I'm sure you'd have woken up to be angry at me," he said, his voice so soft that it felt as though he was only moving his lips.

Due to accident or design, Touya and Waya had been left alone in Shindou's hospital room, as the Shindous had gone to phone their relatives to inform them of the good news--or what counted as good news, as such. Touya didn't think that brain injury was good news, but at least Shindou was alive.

He could see that Waya looked uncomfortable and, Touya guessed, guilty as well. A second of sympathy made him say, "Shindou doesn't like to talk about Sai, you know."

Waya bristled at that. "But he told you."

"I played with Sai once," Touya said.

"Many people played with Sai," Waya pointed out. "What makes you so special?" he narrowed his eyes. "Just because you and him-"

"It's not because of that," Touya said.

"Then why?" Waya said. His voice and indignation rose. "Shindou should have told me!"

Touya glanced down at Shindou, and felt his expression harden. Maybe it was just an accident, but the fact remained that the person lying on the bed was Shindou and not Waya. "Just because Sai once replied to you doesn't mean you feel entitled to a special connection with him," he said.

Waya's mouth fell open. "You know about that-" he began.

"Your juvenile encounter is the joke of the Go world," Touya interrupted, letting his open scorn loose on him. He looked away from Shindou's unnatural stillness, and looked at Waya instead. It felt surprisingly therapeutic to be attacking him. "What do a few boastful words really prove?" he went on. "That Sai thought that your Go was so pathetic that he had to use schoolboy insults? Or that he felt compelled to laugh at your retort that you were an insei?"

Waya turned pale. "What the hell are you-"

Touya raised his voice and continued, taking a vicious satisfaction at the way the words made Waya's face change. He was responsible for Shindou's predicament. He should look more sorry--more anguished. He should suffer. "Shindou would have never told you because he can't trust you to separate him from Sai. You would never see Shindou's success as the result of his hard work. You would assume that he got lucky. You look for shortcuts. You think that Go is a game of dice."

"That's not true! I-"

Touya went on. "You admire Sai too much, and you would not give enough credit to Shindou. You withdraw when you should challenge. That is your weakness, Waya Yoshitaka."

Waya had turned white.

There was a knock at the door, and a nurse stood there. She looked very young and apologetic. "Excuse me..."

Touya felt instantly ashamed. "I'm sorry, were we too loud?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Oh no, it's not that!" she said, almost starting to bow in her earnestness. "It's just that the police is here again. They want to talk to Waya-san...." her voice trailed away again, while her eyes darted from Touya to Waya, clearly wondering which one of them Waya was.

Almost involuntarily, Waya's head turned in Shindou's direction, as though surprised that Shindou had not woken to explain things yet.

But Shindou was still unconscious, of course.

Waya continued to stare at Shindou, incredulous, before he seemed to come to a realization. "Right," he said to the nurse. "I'm the one they're looking for."

"Oh," the nurse said. "They are waiting in one of our consultation rooms." She turned to the door.

Waya followed her out.

Touya's parents had arrived soon after, to sit with him and exchange uneasy comments with the Shindous when they came in. Then they had all left.

Touya sat and watched Shindou, the rasp of his breath a steady balm to his nerves. Shindou would wake up, and in the meantime someone needed to be by his side. "Rest and heal, Hikaru," Touya said, and placed the argyle sweater on Shindou's lap.

-----------------------------

03: I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)

"Please, do let me know the minute-"

"Of course, of course." The middle-aged man who answered him was Shindou's father. He was wearing a suit and tie, as though he came from his office, though he had said that he had taken emergency family leave from his company.

Like armor, Isumi thought of the clothes, to fortify him for the ordeal of the day. He hesitated, reluctant to say anything else, fearing that he would distress them further. "It's just that Shindou has many friends, and when the news about the accident-"

"We understand," Shindou's father said. He smiled politely, but even that social gesture crumbled after a bare second.

Isumi understood too. He said his goodbyes to the Shindous, who thanked him again for visiting. The couple looked old and wan, and bade him to take care on the way home.

Touya didn't say anything to him--Touya didn't say anything to anybody. He just sat beside the bed, waiting.

He knew, from snatches of conversation between the older Shindous and Touyas, that Touya consented to go home for sleep and meals during the day, but come evening, he would be sitting there, ready to wait for Shindou to wake up.

The Tokyo Go community had known how they felt about each other for a long time, yet they had never felt it necessary to do any of the expected things an attached couple was supposed to do.

In the past, Isumi had thought, on a few uncharitable occasions, that they were in denial--or that they assumed no one else knew. They still lived separately, with their parents. They never addressed each other by personal name--at least not where anyone could hear them. For a couple as close in mind and in heart as the two of them, Shindou and Touya seemed strange, like landmark one needed to point out to tourists.

His cellphone burst into song, and Isumi laid a hand on it immediately, feeling his thoughts settle, almost by magic, at the thought of the other person on the line.

"Isumi!"

Here was another who still never addressed him by personal name, in public or private. Le Ping had complained that he'd known Isumi by his family name from the first, and 'Shinichiro' was a mouthful. (Isumi had opposed all diminutives such as 'Shin-kun' or 'Shin-Shin'--and objected equally to addressing his lover as 'Ping-Ping'.)

"Hello, Le Ping," Isumi said. (Yang Hai had once suggested 'Xiao-Ping' and had nearly been eviscerated by his compatriot.)

"Are you still in the hospital? It's late! Come back!" Le Ping's Japanese was still not very good--he preferred studying Go to Japanese, a decision Isumi could empathize with--and what Japanese he spoke had the effect of sounding short and abrupt, as though he was giving orders. It had the unexpected, but welcome effect of intimidating the Japanese pros who would otherwise assume that there was nothing else behind that cheerful exterior.

(Yang Hai had more uncomplimentary things to say about the implications of Le Ping's speech style on their sex life--even Isumi had been tempted to throw Go stones at him.)

"I'm on the way home," Isumi said. "Do you want me to buy anything on the way?"

"No. The fridge is full," Le Ping said, his words giving Isumi the surprising mental picture of a gluttonous refrigerator patting its stomach in satisfaction and dislodging a few refrigerator magnets in the process.

"Ah," Isumi said, deciphering his meaning after a split-second. Actually, his study-mates at the Nine Stars Club mentioned that Isumi had started to play more creatively after he moved in with Le Ping.

("After he got laid on a regular basis," Sakurano said.)

"Quickly!" Le Ping, and this time it was an order, for he added, "I made dinner. It will get cold soon."

"All right," Isumi said, touched. Le Ping didn't often cook, but when he left the apartment, he had seen Le Ping looking worried. "I'll be back soon."

***

After dinner, they sat down on the living room sofa together. Le Ping listened without comment when Isumi explained about Shindou--they only had the vaguest news before--but became agitated when he mentioned that Touya was sitting with Shindou.

"If that ever happened to Isumi, I'll do the same!" Le Ping declared, then clapped his hand to his mouth. "I said an unlucky thing!" he exclaimed, horrified.

"Le Ping-"

"What if it comes true?"

"It won't."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Le Ping became quiet at that. Isumi waited. It was not that Le Ping was gullible enough to believe something that Isumi couldn't really promise. There was something else on his mind.

Minutes passed, and Isumi wondered if he was mistaken, that Le Ping didn't want to talk after all. He was about to suggest a game, when Le Ping sat closer to him, their shoulders touching.

Isumi turned to him, but didn't speak.

"Today, when you went to the hospital," Le Ping began, then stopped.

"Yes?"

"I wanted to go with you."

"Ah." Isumi had asked Le Ping, but at the last minute, Le Ping had backed out.

"Then, when you went and I didn't, I wished you hadn't gone there. All afternoon, I wanted to be with Isumi. I feel better when you're here." He patted his chest in the universal gesture of someone reassuring himself. "More... peace in my heart."

Isumi pulled Le Ping into his arms. "That's why I wanted you to go with me," he said. Irrationally, when he had seen Shindou lying on that bed, so quietly, he had felt a moment of panic, until he told himself that Le Ping was safe at home. "I feel better when you're here, too." He suddenly remembered the bits of Chinese that Yang Hai had translated--laughing the whole while-- for him. "My heart has you inside, Le Ping."

-----------------------------

04: The great bewildering city that you live in

(Three years ago.)

Like Tokyo, the skies never looked blue here. It looked grey and old—older and greyer than in Tokyo—and the noise was alarming. Everywhere he walked, it seemed as though people were shouting at him, intruding into his private space.

The piece of paper in his pocket, so white and crisp when he set out from the hotel that morning, was nearly torn from being folded and refolded numerous times, and the blue ink at the top was spidering out, rendering the characters nearly unreadable. The rest of it was filled with cross-out addresses.

Yang Hai had pushed it into his hands last night at the airport.

"I'd come with you, but the National Youth Tournament is tomorrow," Yang Hai said with a grimace. "I'm one of the officials. You'll have to go yourself."

"A national tournament? But won't Le Ping-"

Yang Hai gave him a look. "Youth Tournament, Isumi," he said. "He's overage. No longer a child, you know."

Right. Just as Le Ping had reminded him before he left. Something he had not realized until Le Ping had indeed gone.

All day, he bumped from locals to tourists, circled the enormous Forbidden City and various smaller, but no less extraordinary constructions, and remembered Le Ping's excited, "They built so many funny-looking venues for the Olympics! I'll show you one day."

He found himself being more pushy than ever, insisting on asking questions when it was clear he was unwelcome, badgering those who had no interest in talking to him. It was the first time he was deliberately impolite, but he was starting to realize that he didn't care. Not from the first encounter that morning.

"Le Ping?" the young man in a faded T-shirt had scratched his chest absentmindedly. He had answered the door still yawning. "Oh, he doesn't live here anymore."

He had refrained from pointing out Yang Hai had given him the address, and Yang Hai would not have misled him. "Do you know where he is?" he asked instead. His Chinese was not very good, but he was learning fast.

The young man shrugged. "Last I heard, he went to Japan to live with a friend. Hey, he's a grown man already--it's none of my business."

"Where else could he have gone?" Isumi fretted at the idea of Le Ping being out there in the city somewhere. He suddenly recalled that Le Ping was no native of this city either.

The young man eyed him for a moment, then suggested, "He has some friends in the Chao Yang area. Here," he grabbed Isumi's piece of paper, produced a pen from somewhere and wrote on it. "Try this place."

That had set the pattern for the entire day. Each time, he met with disappointment, only to be helpfully 'directed' to another of Le Ping's friends, to more disappointment.

Isumi wondered down a grey-looking street as the sun began to set. Wonders of wonders, this one was not crowded. Instead, elderly men and women were sitting around. A few were exercising.

Aimlessly, he walked towards a small gathered group, thinking it was another taiji exercise group. But no.

A young man sat playing simultaneous Go--no, weiqi--with three grey-haired men, chatting with them cheerfully as he did so. He looked just like Waya Yoshitaka, but he was not Waya.

"Le Ping," Isumi said in astonishment.

-----------------------------

05: You’re the miss that misses

"...Black ignored the struggle in the centre and played 19-3 instead, in a futile attempt to take the corner-" the recital in the room stopped when she knocked and opened the door. "Ah, Fujisaki-san," Touya said. "Good evening."

"Touya-san," Akari nodded. "Good evening." She dared to enter the hospital room only when she saw that Touya looked his usual neutral self.

He stood up, and a smile appeared and disappeared on his lips, too fast to even remark upon. "Have a seat," he pulled out another chair for her, on the other side of the bed.

"Thanks," she said, sitting down and putting down her briefcase by the chair. "Have you been here long?"

After a glance at his wristwatch, Touya looked bemused. "For nearly three hours, it seems. No wonder my throat feels a bit dry. I'll go and get something to drink. Would you like something, Fujisaki-san?" he inquired politely.

"Oh no, thank you," she said, her gaze already turning to Hikaru, watching him to see if she could detect any changes from her last visit.

Touya nodded. "Excuse me, then."

He left the room, leaving Akari alone with Hikaru.

Akari sat back in the chair, stifling a groan. "It's been a crazy week, Hikaru," she said to him. "Three cases in just one day alone! I swear, the partners assume that just because I'm the youngest, they can dump all the new ones on me." She kicked off her shoes and stretched her feet out. "I'm going back to the office after this, can you believe that? Maybe I should just camp out in my office. Bring a sleeping bag, so I can work twenty hours a day."

She smoothed Hikaru's hair back, and noticed the black roots. Hikaru's hair was growing out, obscuring the blond patch in front.

Hikaru was going to be horrified when he woke up, she thought with a smile. She never failed to tease him about it whenever they met--that he had kept the same hairstyle for more than ten years--and he responded by saying that girls with short hair were 'uncute'.

"Hey, I'm playing Go again, can you believe it?" she said to him. "I know, you're thinking, 'it's about time.' You got mad when I stopped in university, but law school is hard, Hikaru. It's not like sitting around playing games all day, you slacker." She almost reached out to hit him on the shoulder playfully, and remembered at the last minute that he couldn't respond.

She wondered where Touya was. Touya always gave her a few minutes alone with Hikaru when she came. He always seemed to understand that she was Hikaru's friend and that even though they were all busy with their own lives, she still missed having him as a friend to talk to, and tease.

"I still owe you for encouraging me to go to law school, though," she said. "It suits me, more than I had ever thought it would. It's like playing Go, except I win," she stuck out her tongue at him in a childish gesture.

Touya entered at that moment, and Akari told herself firmly not to blush. She was Hikaru's oldest friend, and she had the right to be childish at him.

"Here," Touya held out a canned drink to her.

"Thanks," Akari said, though she wasn't thirsty, and waited while he sat down. "Were you reading a kifu to Hikaru just now?" she asked.

Touya nodded. "It's a game between me and Ko Yeong-ha two months ago in Seoul. I promised to show him the kifu, but I hadn't had the chance to do so before."

Akari sat back. "I see. In that case, please continue. I'm sure Hikaru wouldn't want to miss that."

There was that quick, disappearing smile again. Touya hesitated only for a second, before he pulled out a piece of paper and began to read.

-----------------------------

06: Used to your streets

Le Ping stepped off the train, walking up the steps, slowing as the suit-clad businessman in front of him slowed too. He passed the fare gates, his feet turning right as though they had a mind of their own, taking him to the second underpass.

Like Beijing, the capital city of Tokyo surrounded an imperial palace too, but this one was accessible to the public only rarely. Still, its presence seemed to loom over the city, large and impenetrable--unlike the Forbidden Palace where you only had to pay to get in--so that to get from Chiyoda ward to the hospital, he had to change trains twice, jostling between bored commuters and looking up in surprise at the realization that it was the evening rush hour.

He was still pondering the unusual opening Isumi had played in the game with Ogata that afternoon. "Why did he play the keima there?" Le Ping had wondered out loud to himself, and didn't even feel embarrassed when a pair of young woman stared at him and giggled.

Isumi could always be counted on to play strong, solid Go, leading some to assume that he was a boring, predictable player. It took a strong opponent to tease out Isumi's true strength, and play Go of such virtuosity that even observers at the game found themselves doubting their eyesight.

Le Ping didn't doubt his eyesight, but he was still trying to figure it out. It was a strong move, that keima, but it shouldn't have been that strong. But it had torn down Ogata's defenses. A slow process, lacking the drama of say, Shindou Hikaru's games, but Ogata had been powerless to stop it.

"Why not a large keima?" he asked the empty air, and realized that he was at the hospital. Isumi had given him careful directions, and Le Ping felt a little proud at the way he had made his way through by himself. When he first started living in Tokyo, it was as though he was half-blind and half-deaf; he never quite understood the announcements on the roads and subways, and the numerous street signs confused him. But now he went everywhere without help.

Years ago, he had learnt Beijing's streets easily, as any excited child new to the city would, but Tokyo was a bigger challenge because it was Isumi's home.

And his home, now. With Isumi's friends that were also his friends. Le Ping liked Touya Akira, who had never treated him as a child, and Shindou Hikaru, who played serious Go but saw no reason to let it get him down.

He read the patient's nameplate on the door, and hesitated as nurses and doctors hurried in and out of the room. Something has happened, he thought, hearing snatches of conversation inside, about the-patient-this and the-patient-that. Machines were beeping.

Timidly, he peeped in.

Touya Akira was standing by the bed, only a short distance from it, to allow space for the doctors to work. He looked at the bed as though it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Le Ping's heart started to thump.

Then the nurses and the doctors moved away from the bed, and they were smiling. And so was Shindou Hikaru.

-----------------------------

07: You look a little bit older, a little bit colder

Kadowaki Asako tapped her heels outside the hospital ward impatiently; Tatsuhiko had excused himself to make a phone call and made her wait there, saying that it was from his broker. He had better not be smoking, she thought with irritation. She had made him promise to quit after they got married.

It had been a boring visit, anyway. She didn't know what possessed Tatsuhiko to drag her along on a hospital visit to one of his Go friends--she amused herself by speculating, not without a hint of malice, that her husband had a touch of homophobia and needed 'a woman's protection' when he came across a gay couple.

Shindou Hikaru--no, it should be Shindou Meijin--and Touya Ouza made a cute couple, she thought. It was amusing to think that since Shindou was finally awake and recovering, he would soon be defending his title from his own lover. The two of them had been fighting over the Meijin title for years, after all.

Asako prided herself on keeping up with news in the Go world, even if she didn't play. A comment from one of her old boyfriends (also a Go pro) about her ignorance had stung, and once married to a Go pro, she had resolved not to be oblivious to the world that so fascinated her husband.

Where was Tatsuhiko? Had he gone back to see Shindou, after all? She walked down the hallway, and frowned at the raised voices coming from Shindou's hospital room.

"...not Sai!" came a shout.

It sounded remarkably like Shindou--he and Tatsuhiko had been talking nineteen to dozen about a game just now--but why was he shouting? Surely he wasn't quarreling with someone- Asako ducked behind a pillar when another man emerged from Shindou's room. Even from just a quick glimpse, she identified him immediately.

Ogata Seiji, current holder of the Gosei title. An ex-boyfriend. That ex.

She pretended to be studying a notice on the wall, looking at him out of the corner of her eye as he stalked past, his eyes focused on something only he could see. He didn't notice her at all, and she watched him until he walked through the doorway.

He looked different, Asako thought. Older, of course, but driven as well, as though he had to beat a finishing line only he could see. It was a look that had frustrated her hugely when they were together: it was as though he could not see anything except his ambition. But from the lines on his face and around his lips, Asako had the feeling that he looked this way all the time now.

When they were together, Seiji had been facing one of the toughest opponents in the Japanese Go world: Kuwabara Honinbou. The wily old pro managed to outplay Seiji to retain his Honinbou title, and when she and Seiji broke up, he had been on the verge of launching his second challenge at the old man, both for the title and in revenge for the way he had been outwitted.

But he didn't succeed. Beyond all expectations, Kuwabara had maintained his title for another three years, and when he finally lost, it was to a young pro named Isumi Shinichiro. Seiji lost his 10-dan title in the same year--the same year Shindou became Meijin and Touya became Ouza.

It must have been a tough struggle for the top, Asako thought. No wonder Seiji looked different now. She thought of her own husband, fighting his way into the title games, and felt her heart soften (just a little).

"Asako! I've been looking everywhere for you," Tatsuhiko said, appearing suddenly. He still looked very much like the first time they met, when he had leered at her in her short skirt, and had nearly been slapped for his rudeness. There were more lines around his eyes, but he looked the same. She suddenly felt relieved.

-----------------------------

08: Dovetailed solution of your heart

"Are you feeling better?" Touya asked.

Shindou nodded, though Touya could see that his chest was still rising and falling rapidly--too rapidly for his comfort--and his face looked flushed. "I've never heard you-" he paused to gather breath, "speak like that before."

"I-"

"And to Ogata!" Shindou finished.

"Shindou!" he admonished. "Any more shouting and you'll have the nurses in. You're lucky they didn't come rushing in just now."

A snort answered him, accompanied by rolling eyes. "Please," Shindou said, using his most dignified voice, "they're used to us shouting by now. Why do you think they gave me this room?"

Touya could be dignified too. "If you hadn't insisted on playing Go..." he began, indicated the notebook computer which lay on the bedside table, "I wouldn't need to yell at you."

"I was bored!" Shindou complained.

"You're supposed to be resting."

Shindou gave him a look, then pushed the buttons beside his bed to raise it, and started to struggle up from his prone position.

"What are you doing?" Touya asked, perplexed, but he helped Shindou to sit up.

Shindou finally got settled, sitting up with a pillow behind him, and narrowed his eyes at Touya. "I'm sitting up. I can't feel angry at you properly unless I'm sitting--or standing." He looked flushed again, but he took a deep breath and crossed his arms.

Touya didn't want to tell him that he looked ridiculous. "Broken ribs, Shindou," he said. "They need to heal."

"My ribs are fine," Shindou said, though he did uncross his arms. The moment of friction evaporated as though it had never happened. He studied Touya closely. "What has Waya been saying?" he asked.

Touya answered without a beat. "What do you mean?"

Shindou's eyes narrowed, and he raised a hand long enough to point a finger at Touya. Only for a second; he dropped it when his hand started to tremble. "Well, there must be a reason why Ogata thought I had to be Sai just because I was playing Net Go."

Damn. He knew Shindou was going to ask about this, but it didn't mean he was going to enjoy talking about it.

"And Waya hasn't come to see me even once."

Because I throw him out whenever he comes, Touya thought.

"I knew he got mad at me because he accused me of being Sai, and I denied it, but I didn't think-" Shindou paused, and real worry filled his eyes. "Touya, what has Waya been saying?"

"It's not important," Touya said. "It'll blow over soon enough," he went on, "people don't care about whether you were Sai, they care about-"

"Touya Akira."

Touya looked down at the floor, his eyes drawn to the tiled floor as though it were a giant goban. Yesterday Shindou had tried to walk, and had promptly fallen on that very spot. "He's said a few things," he said. "But it's too incredible for people to believe."

"Huh?"

Touya looked up at him, staring into those eyes. When Sai disappeared, Shindou's heart had been broken. Only time, and a renewed devotion to Go had helped him to recover. He was loath to say anything that would hurt Shindou.

But his logical mind went on, and the words left his mouth as though he were talking of everyday things. "I should say, it's too incredible for most people to believe. Sai's Go, and your Go--especially your Go ten years ago--are very different."

"Oh." It was very soft.

"But there are a few who have known you long enough, and who remember some of the things you've done-"

"And for them, it adds up, huh?"

Touya said, "To them, it all fits." Like the pain in Shindou's voice.

"Like Ogata, you mean. And Waya."

Touya nodded. And the loss in Shindou's heart. "And Waya."

-----------------------------

09: You’re the model of a charmless man

It was absolutely disgraceful. There was no common courtesy, or decency, anymore. People just sidled up to their friends, or even mere acquaintances, and after exchanging a brief greeting, inevitably, one of them would ask, "Have you heard about Shindou Meijin?"

Then they would start to speculate about the gossip that had been spreading around the Go world in the last few weeks. At first it was very discreet, but after the news came that Shindou Hikaru had woken up from his coma and was recovering, the gossipers seemed to have lost all sense of proportion and decorum, continually discussing the topic from beginning to end, jumping at any bit of old information about Shindou's past behaviour.

Ochi Kosuke was sick to death of it. Always Shindou, he thought with an inner huff, making his way through the hallways of the Go Institute. People were always talking about Shindou. He had always thought of the Institute as a haven for Go study, but the constant gossip was ruining it for him.

He entered the lift, and pressed the button for the reception level. A couple of insei entered, and to his disgust, they began, "Have you heard about Shindou-sensei-" at each other.

Ochi had enough. He pushed his glasses up his nose, and was about admonish them--they were girls, of course; females always seemed to dote on Shindou--when someone outside shouted, "Hold the lift!"

One of the insei immediately jabbed the 'open' button. The doors opened, and a man came in. He nodded thanks at the insei, and did a double-take as the doors closed. "Ochi! What a surprise to see you."

"Waya," Ochi said in greeting, feeling his mood sour even more. Waya, one of Shindou's closest friends, was not someone he wanted to see.

"Waya-sensei," the older of the insei said, "Is it true, what they're saying about Shindou-sensei?"

Ochi was interested to notice that Waya's expression dimmed a little at the mention of Shindou. "I don't know," Waya said. "What are they saying?"

The younger insei, perhaps encouraged by Waya's curiosity, replied: "They say that Shindou-sensei was a super genius in Go when he was only twelve or thirteen, and that he beat many Go pros while playing on the internet as another person. And-" here she paused, her eyes brightening, "that's how he met Touya-sensei!"

Her fellow insei nodded eagerly. "Yes. Is it true, that they started dating then?"

Waya had the expression of a man who had unexpectedly swallowed a pickled plum whole. "Uh-" he began. "You see-I mean-"

Ochi watched with malicious enjoyment. Unfortunately, the lift arrived at the ground level, and they all got out. The two insei excused themselves, still chattering excitedly about Shindou and Touya, and how devoted Touya-sensei was.

Waya muttered, "Touya. Always Touya," before he realized that Ochi was still in the reception area. "Not going home yet, Ochi?" he asked, a little testily.

A few things about the gossip clicked in Ochi's head. "You're the one who's been talking about Shindou," he concluded.

Waya gave a start. "How did you know?"

Ochi pushed his glasses up his nose with a sniff. "Each time there's some romantic drivel in the Institute about how close Touya is to Shindou, it's always followed the next day by talk about how Shindou used to play as Sai and is better than Touya. It's as though someone doesn't like the idea of Shindou being with Touya, and that someone wants Shindou to be Sai."

"But I didn't-" Waya stopped. " 'Romantic drivel', huh?" he said to Ochi, a smile pulling at his lips. "For someone who's been dumped at the altar twice, it sounds like a funny thing to say."

Ochi almost admired him for counter-attacking so viciously. Hoping his face hadn't betrayed him by reacting to the taunt, Ochi turned on his heel and stalked away.

"Or maybe a jealous thing?" Waya said after him.

Ochi nearly turned back, but he made himself walk on. Yes, he thought that gossip about Shindou and Touya was romantic drivel. It was at least better than the gossip that had malicious overtones, gossip that insinuated that their morals were shaky, that they ought not be tutoring young children.

As for the two times he was dumped... Ochi was resigned to the fact that he was not romantic, nor was he good at relationships. He was typical of Go professionals in one respect--he was devoted to Go, and found it meaningless to exert himself just to impress a mere woman (who didn't even play Go).

He stepped out into the sunshine, letting the dark thoughts disappear in the hot summer heat.

-----------------------------

10: To me, my fair friend, you can never be old

"Have the rumours spread as far as that?" Touya Kouyo looked at his old friend. Despite the genuine curiosity in his voice, the only visible sign of emotion he showed was a slight widening of the eyes.

Eyes that had gathered more wrinkles around them, Yang Hai thought, much like the man himself, who gathered admirers and respect around him as naturally as he breathed. "You forget, old friend, I have a particular interest in these kinds of rumours," he said, thinking of the computer lab he had set up in his room.

They were in the coffee lounge of the Ritz-Carlton in Beijing, where the Touyas were staying. Yang Hai mentally thumbed his nose at the serious-faced business travellers seated around them.

"Ah, yes. Your project," Touya said. He was as imperturbable as ever. "You've been at it for more than ten years now, if I remember right."

"Eleven and counting," Yang Hai said. "I thought it could be done in three years, and now?" He spread his hands. "Each time I think this is it, that I've cracked it, something happens to make me re-evaluate my findings."

"Ah, that is a setback. Your determination is admirable, however."

"Ha." Yang Hai dismissed the other's attempt to comfort him. "At this rate, I'll be in my grave by the time we actually succeed. I mean, even for a initial study, it's simply ballooned!"

There was a glint of humour in Touya's eyes. "I remember that I said before that it would be a mistake to run your preliminary experiment using Sai's data."

Yang Hai acknowledged the rub with a sigh. "I thought it was a good choice," he said, and began to tick off points on his fingers. "One, he showed significant growth in his Go skills over the course of only a few months. Two, he played with a wide range of players, from amateurs to pros. Three, his best games contained most of situations covered in Go--his Go was like an encyclopedia!--and four, he was basically anonymous. No one knows who he is, after all." He eyed Touya, wondering if this time, Touya would tell him.

Touya shook his head. "You know that I've played with him only once."

"That's not what I asked," Yang Hai said, letting his gaze take in Touya's demeanor, trying to imagine what it signified.

The pause between them stretched out. Around them business travellers ordered coffee and toast. "It is a pity you've decided on concentrate on computer programs rather than Go," Touya ,seemingly apropos of nothing.

Yang Hai accepted the compliment in the spirit it was meant--to Touya Kouyo, once a five title-holder, Go was the only path that mattered--and felt at once resigned and impressed. The retired pro was just as steady as he had been in his youth: impassive, impossible to rattle.

-----------------------------

11: Your name begins with a distinct color

"Hey, both of your names have to do with light!" Honda, who was sitting on the other side of the bed and reading Go Weekly aloud, exclaimed all of a sudden.

Nase, seated beside him and idly filling in the sudoku puzzle in the newspaper, gave him an incredulous look. "And you have only discovered that now?" she asked. At his blank look, she rolled her eyes. "Men. They can make it to the Meijin League, but cannot even remember their opponents' name!"

Touya, listening to their exchange, hid a smile.

Honda shrugged. "Is it wrong of me to concentrate on their Go instead?" he asked, aggrieved.

"No-o," Nase drawled. "But you did not realize this--ten years ago? Shindou Hikaru," she waved a hand at the bed. "And Touya Akira." She emphasized their personal names with relish. "There're all kinds of puns and jokes-"

Shindou groaned from the bed. "Please don't," he begged.

Touya silently added his plea, though he was sure it would be ignored.

Sure enough, Nase cleared her throat. " 'Touya Akira, bringer of brightness into the Go world.' The hope of the future!"

Shindou made exaggerated gagging noises.

"And 'Shindou Hikaru, light of the new Go'! Or this one I saw last week, about the Meijin game between them: 'Clash of the bright ones!'"

Honda's jaw fell. "You're kidding," he said. "Tell me you made those up."

Nase shook her head. "Nope. You've never read anything other than Go Weekly, right? Well, my non-romantic, totally-platonic rival, next time you're in the bookshop, pick up a copy of Let's Go! or Go-orgeous Pros. They're the tabloid version of Go news."

From his seat next to the bed, Touya could hear Shindou mutter about libel.

"A-and they use those headlines?"

"Oh yes. The editors always come with attention-grabbing ones-" she went on, while Honda's eyes got bigger and bigger.

Touya was starting to regret being in the room. It was like listening to insei talk, or god forbid, the conversations between the older pros in his father's study group. His and Shindou's names were merely a coincidence--sometimes a rather unfortunate one, especially when it gave rise to silly headlines like that.

Shindou growled in his throat, and Touya glanced at him. They exchanged a helpless look. Nase spoke, interrupting them. "Speaking of tabloids, Shindou, there have been some rather odd write-ups in Let's Go! and Go-orgeous Pros. Something about a pro named Sai?"

Shindou raised his eyebrows. "What has that got to do with me?"

Nase met his stare. "Because it was implied that a certain title-holder has knowledge that would shake the Go world, or something because he knew about Sai." She shrugged. "Of course, such claims are always exaggerated, but it did sound like they were referring to you."

"Me?"

"Well, the wording was 'we need a high-ranking pro to shed light on the matter'--or something similar--and you were the first I thought of," Nase said. She eyed Touya. "Of course, they could be talking about Touya instead."

"Me?"

"Light and brightness, right?" Nase went on. She studied them for a moment. "It's your name, and it's a way of describing one of you, like the colour of your eyes-" she grinned. "Or your hair."

Shindou's hand immediately went to the patch of hair in front of his head, where his black roots were showing. "Hey!" he exclaimed.

-----------------------------

12: An ode to your innocence

It was Akira who looked up first when she opened the door, his eyes calm and un-startled, as though he had been expecting her. That gave her a good look at his eyes, which were still shadowed from too little sleep and too much worry. She smiled at him and at the others gathered around the bed. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly the arrival of a few Go pros would turn the hospital room into a Go salon.

"Shindou-san," one of the Go pros greeted her, then a guilty look passed over his face. "Is it that late already?" he looked longingly at the portable goban placed between him and her son.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But visiting hours are over." She noticed that the goban was only half-filled--probably meaning that the game was in progress. Her heart softened at the woebegone expression on his face; it was so much at odds with the wild, spiky hairstyle he sported. "Hikaru needs to rest."

"Mum!" her son protested, not even looking up from his contemplation of the goban.

"It's late," Akira pointed out.

"We can continue tomorrow, you know," Hikaru's opponent said. "I'm staying another two days in Tokyo, anyway."

Her Hikaru pouted, and gave in with bad grace. "All right," he said. He sat back, letting his opponent clear the goban. "Are you staying in a hotel again, Yashirou?" he asked his opponent.

"Yeah. It's only five stations away, so I'll be here tomorrow before you know it."

"You'd better," Hikaru growled. "Using that 5-5 first hand on me again was a cheap move."

"We'll know if it was a really a cheap move after I beat you tomorrow," Yashirou said easily, as he finished clearing the goban, and put the bowls of Go stones on the bedside table.

"In your dreams," Hikaru said.

Mitsuko wondered if the reason Go pros enjoyed Go so much was that they got to taunt one another like schoolboys.

The other two occupants in the room came up to them, after having put away their game on another portable goban (placed on a chair). "We shouldn't disturb Shindou any further, then," the girl said--her name was Nase Asumi, she remembered--giving Mitsuko a bow.

Her companion--Komiya--nodded, and said, "Yashiro, we can walk to the station together."

Yashirou-kun agreed, and after a few more comments on their Go games, the three left, leaving Mitsuko with Akira and Hikaru. Clucking anxiously, Mitsuko began tidying up. The visiting pros had been neat enough, but she was familiar with the mess that Go players left behind--or didn't regard as 'mess' at all.

Kifu (showing games in various stages), a copy of Go Weekly (last month's), quick sketches on scrap paper of what looked like strategy discussions (crisscrossed lines and circles and arrows going every which way), a game clock (how did that get here?) and even two black Go stones, in a corner of the room behind the door.

What had they been doing, throwing Go stones at one another?

Almost finished, Mitsuko turned to her son and Akira, belatedly realizing that she hadn't heard any sound from them, and Akira hadn't been helping her, either...

Both boys were asleep.

Hikaru was lying on the bed, his left arm held close to his body, a sign that he was still favouring it even after the cast had been removed. Akira was still sitting in his chair, but his head was on Hikaru's pillow.

Despite herself, Mitsuko found herself watching them. She had never subscribed to the theory that a relationship like theirs was unnatural--Hikaru was her son, and nothing he loved could be unnatural. That went for Go, and it went for Akira too. She remembered her son as the innocent child he had been, and thought that Akira must have been the same way too.

He was an adorable-looking child, too, Mitsuko thought--Touya Akiko had shown her pictures--and now he was an adult, caring for Hikaru in all the ways he knew how, and protecting him besides.

Mitsuko was the first to admit to anyone who would listen that she knew nothing of Go, and what was more, had no particular interest in learning. It seemed a vastly complicated game, weighty as a war, and as twisted as a maze. But games were games, even if one did manage to make a living at it--and the rumours that Akira had talked to her about were not games.

Someone seemed intent on hurting Hikaru by suggesting that he was this other Go player called Sai. Akira had explained that Hikaru had known a Go player named Sai, but he had died a long time ago, and just raking up the past about Sai was upsetting him.

Mitsuko suspected it was more than that. She had heard the name Sai before, when Hikaru was still young and prone to talking to himself. Then he had stopped, and a secret sorrow had entered his eyes.

She walked forward and smoothed Hikaru's hair, then Akira's. Neither of them woke. Sleep well, she thought.

-----------------------------

13: You’ve given me the answer

"I've already explained to the police that it was an accident," Shindou said, intent on getting his argument across. "And I said I wouldn't be pressing any charges."

Although he agreed with the accident part, Touya couldn't help wishing that Shindou had pressed charges. "You've said that already." He mentally gauged his choices. He could either confront it directly now, or retreat, but leave a backdoor for himself.

"I've put it behind me," Shindou said with a nod, and waved a hand as though in emphasis, before suddenly pulling it back, and cradling it against his chest. His left hand; it still ached if he used it, Touya knew. "It's over. In the past." He put down a white stone with his right hand.

"If you say so." No, he wasn't going to retreat.

"Touya, are you listening to me?" Shindou looked up, and when he met Touya's eyes, his scowling expression dissolved. "Of course you are," he said, starting to smile.

Touya returned the smile, helpless to resist Shindou when he had that expression on his face. It was the expression that said, 'You're here! You haven't left!' Sometimes, Touya thought, he could almost hate Sai for leaving. "And I can already predict what you're going to say next, so don't," he said. He attacked, pushing his advantage against Shindou's already strong defenses, but certain he was strong enough to kick through them.

Shindou sat back in bed, his eyes narrowed on the goban. His own bed, the annoyingly narrow (or delightfully narrow, depending on the activity they were engaging in) single bed that he had slept in since he was five, creaked a little. Shindou's precious goban and go-ke were placed in the middle, with Touya seated near the foot of the bed. If one of them moved too much, the goban would tilt and the stones would slide right off.

Touya waited, studying the new bedsheets that Shindou's mother bought, and the quilt that his grandmother had made. Shindou had been delighted to see his bed--even relieved--even though he wouldn't have admitted that the trip back from the hospital had tired him out. After a nap, though (Touya had eaten lunch with the Shindous), he had demanded a game.

"You're being unreasonable and stupid," Shindou said.

That old insult still riled him. "S-stupid?" he exclaimed.

Shindou made a face at him. "The great Touya Akira, Touya Ouza, unable to separate his emotions from facts," he pointed out.

"Shindou..." he said in a warning tone.

"And when that happens, you get beaten!" he stuck out his tongue, pulled down his lower eyelid with the weak left hand, and with the right, played a response. It seemed unconnected, though, all by itself on a corner of the goban.

Curious to know what he meant, Touya continued his attack. It took several more hands for the situation to become clear, and Touya would not have even realized it--until it was too late--if he didn't know Shindou's Go so well.

Touya blinked as Shindou's strategy became clear. By not directly engaging Touya's attack, Shindou gained the advantage in securing territory, until Touya had no choice but to go on the defensive to protect what he had left.

"See?" Shindou grinned as soon as Touya's hand fell back on to the go-ke, his stone dropping back into it as he realized what had happened. "You were too hasty--you forgot that in Go, the aim is to grab territory, not counter-attack your opponent to death."

Touya reflected that Shindou had a nasty habit of gloating, and said so.

"Only with you!" Shindou said. He added, more softly, "And only you know my Go well enough to try that."

In a certain respect, that was true. They knew each other's Go so well that each saw through the other's strategies several hands before any others did. In Go they talked, questioned, won and lost arguments and spoke of their dreams and aspirations.

In Go there was passion, but it was foolish to let emotions dictate one's actions. Touya fingered the Go stones, willing himself to cool down. He could be angry, but he would not let anger control him.

"Touya?" Shindou whispered. "Akira, I know you blame him-"

"All right," Touya said, giving the answer Shindou wanted. "I'll call Waya tomorrow."

-----------------------------

14: This road is all you’ll ever have

It was a measure of their friendship that he didn't even need to apologise.

"Sit down, will you?"

Waya looked around the bedroom for a place to do so. It was just as he remembered: goban on the floor, Go books neatly placed on tall bookshelves, stacks of kifu piled neatly on the table, the chair, the table...

"Oops. Haha," Shindou chuckled weakly. "Um, just put those old copies of Weekly Go on the floor. I'll get Touya to move them to the recycling pile later."

Awkwardly, Waya cleared the chair as asked, idly wondering where Touya had been sitting if the chair was filled. A mental picture of them sitting on the bed together began to take shape, and he forced the image away before it could coalesce. There were some things he didn't need to see, he told himself, before sitting down on the emptied chair.

"I'm sorry Touya wouldn't let you see me when I was in hospital. I told him he was being stupid, and he agreed."

That second part took Waya aback, and he must have made a sound of disbelief.

A snort that sounded just like all the ones Shindou had made before. "Well, I beat him in a game first, and that convinced him I was right."

Typical Shindou, he almost said, but turned the words around at the last minute. "How are you?" he asked, trying to sound as casual as he could. He didn't think he succeeded; his voice wobbled alarmingly, and squeaked at the end.

"I'm fine!" Shindou said, with a loud sigh. "Or I will be. It's just walking that's a little tough at the moment."

Waya belatedly noticed the crutches by the bed.

Shindou went on, "I've already told the Institute that I will be well enough to play the first of the Meijin title games with Touya next month. They've agreed under advisement."

That soon? Waya was tempted to protest. He was the one who had seen Shindou fly into the air, after all--and land, with a sickeningly loud thud--and in this, at least, he did not kid himself: Shindou had escaped death by the narrowest margins. He was lucky in that his injuries would heal completely, but it could have been very different.

"I know what you're thinking, but if I can beat Touya in a quick game, I can beat him in a title game, no problem."

Waya was thinking that a five-hour official game was vastly different from a quick, casual game with one's lover.

"Waya? Let's play, too."

And that was how he ended up playing with Shindou, the goban balanced somewhat precariously on the stack of Go Weekly between the bed and his chair. He was losing, too.

"I do get sick of being stuck in bed all the time," Shindou said. It was the first thing he had said since they started the game.

Waya's heart twisted, not just with guilt. He had long known that Shindou's Go was powerful, and had encountered it for himself numerous times over the years. But each time was a renewed dashing of his hopes.

Maybe it was because Shindou's Go was like his person: brilliant, lightning fast, with unending surprises that gave his opponents hope of an eventual careless hand. It was unlike some of the other high-ranking pros that Waya played--as Go players gained experience and ranking, they tended to become more conservative, intent on protecting a early lead.

Shindou was different--he played quirky, sometimes near-suicidal hands, always experimenting and searching for breakthroughs. When he first started playing as a pro, he was not as skillful and often lost, but as the years went by, Shindou's myosho only gained in strength and dexterity.

It mortified Waya that he was able to do this even in convalescence from a number of serious injuries.

Shindou played a hand and declared, "Sometimes I really feel like yelling at Touya to leave me alone, because I feel so useless."

Waya searched assiduously for a path out of the whole mess. He had planned the opening well, and he had read far ahead to predict some of Shindou's moves. But he had not planned--how could he?--for the way Shindou could jump in and cut off his escape routes. He responded, feeling helpless as he did so.

"But he won't. He's afraid I'll die if he's not around." Another stone.

He couldn't find the way out. There was no road that he could see.

"Haha." There was no humour in that laugh, though. "All the times over the years I've wondered if he would disappear one day, just like- well, it's ironic that I'm scaring him instead, you know?"

He played another hand, his last resort, though he didn't have much hope in it. Sure enough, Shindou blocked it. He went on in the same thoughtful tone. "That's what I've been seeing in his Go. Too much fear; that's how I won our games, because I could see a way through, and he couldn't."

He was going to have to resign, and Shindou was nattering about Touya Akira. He growled in his throat, and blurted, "What's that got to do with anything?"

He could almost hear Shindou's smile.

"Waya, I know that you're looking for a way to... to make all this go away." A pale-looking hand, much thinner than Waya recognised, entered his range of sight as Shindou waved a hand over the goban.

"What? What are you talking about?" he said, perplexed.

"Just like Touya! Some part of him is hoping that it'll all go back to normal soon, and he can pretend it never happened. But it won't. The past connects to the future. It's the only road we have, and the only thing to do now is to step forward on it-"

Waya interrupted, "Shindou, what's all this about roads and ways? I'm not trying to make it go away, whatever it is-"

"Waya, it was an accident. You and I know that-"

"I know!"

"Then why haven't you looked at me since you entered this room?"

Waya froze. His mind in a whirl, he continued to stare down at the goban, refusing to look anywhere else. He had been avoiding the eyes of every single person in the house: Shindou's mother, his grandfather, and Touya Akira. The mixture of guilt and discomfort he had been carrying through the weeks seemed to burn through him.

"Waya."

He had tried to feel resentful and ill-used--it was Shindou's fault for being so clumsy; it was not his fault!--but those feelings always crumbled away after a while. Instead, he kept remembering the look of panic on Shindou's face as the car hit him.

"Waya, I resign." He pushed the go-ke to one side.

Shocked, Waya looked up. "Shindou, you-" he began and stared at Shindou, his first real look at his friend.

Shindou was grinning at him. He looked thinner and weaker, and his hair looked freshly cut, but black in front, something Waya had never seen before.

"I-" he didn't know what to say.

"Say 'thank you for the game'."

"W-what?"

Shindou made a face. "Do you know, you're the only person I can talk to about Touya? What will I do without you? Say 'thank you for the game'."

Waya parroted, slowly and wonderingly, "Thank you for the game."

Shindou grinned.

"And-" Waya gathered his courage. "I'm sor-"

"Thank you for the game!" Shindou said firmly, and tossed a handful of stones on the goban.

-----------------------------

15: Your secret of a clandestine autumn

(Three years ago.)

Autumn in Beijing provided a respite from the scorching summer heat and the blinding dust-storms. The locals didn't mind lingering outside, so that even at nine in the evening, the streets were still full of people.

Le Ping did look older, Isumi thought. Gone was the happy smile Le Ping had always worn around him. His face looked smaller, like that of an wizened old man--though he still moved the way Isumi recognized, rapid and determined. He didn't look back.

Isumi followed without a word. Apart from his earlier exclamation when he finally ran into Le Ping, he didn't know what to say, but he knew he could not let Le Ping leave his sight again. He walked along the same path, several paces behind, crossed the same roads (without even looking at the traffic) and climbed the same steps up a bridge and down again.

Occasionally he pushed aside a local or two with barely an apology, in order to keep Le Ping in his line of sight.

He took the same bus Le Ping did, fumbling in his pocket for the right fare, and sat down behind Le Ping, though he did not speak. He kept sneaking looks at Le Ping, as though to assure himself that he hadn't lost him. Le Ping looked out of the window, his face impassive.

"Y-you are only eighteen," Isumi had stammered a few months ago.

"I'm old enough to know what I want." He didn't shout that time--just looked at Isumi with a pained look in his face. "But you don't believe me."

"I-"

"I'm going back to China."

He hadn't really believed it, but it was true; he woke up and found that Le Ping had left.

Yang Hai had replied to his anxious messages after two days--two days in which Isumi seriously contemplated chucking all his game obligations to take a flight to Beijing--that yes, Le Ping was back, but he had gone back to his hometown in Yunnan. He didn't want to see Isumi.

Because Yang Hai had counselled patience, Isumi had waited, and waited... until the leaves turned red in the countryside and his heart ached because Le Ping was not here to see them with him. He had postponed his games and bought a ticket on the first available flight to Beijing.

Le Ping stood up, surprising him, so that he had to scramble and edge out of his seat after him. The bus screeched to a stop--bus drivers in Beijing drove as though they were in a race--and Le Ping alighted. Isumi followed.

It was a part of Beijing that Isumi had not seen before, though he guessed that they were near the universities. They walked without words, until they came to a small apartment block. Le Ping entered without hesitation. They climbed the stairs, only three feet and six years apart. On the third floor, Le Ping pulled out a key and opened the door. He gave no indication that he noticed Isumi's presence at all.

But then someone pulled Isumi inside, pushed him against the door and a tongue pushed its way between Isumi's lips, and it was Le Ping.

It was Le Ping who closed the door, Le Ping who ran his hands down Isumi's back, and Le Ping who led Isumi into a bedroom. It was Le Ping who pulled off Isumi's T-shirt and undid his jeans. It was Le Ping who kissed his way down to Isumi's stomach to Isumi's erection, and wrapped his lips around it. It was Le Ping, and Isumi could not get enough of him.

Yet in the morning, it was as though Le Ping had disappeared into thin air. Isumi woke up, still exhausted from a whole day of searching, to find him gone. He was not in the apartment, but it was Le Ping's apartment: the goban showed Isumi's most recent game in Japan with Touya Akira.

After a bewildered search, he had returned to his hotel by taxi and after a clean-up, he went to look for Yang Hai, who was not at any tournament at all as he claimed but was entering something that looked like kifu data into a computer.

"Good morning," Yang Hai said, after a brief glance at him, and turned his attention back to the computer. "Did you find him?"

Isumi wasn't sure whether to threaten him, hit him, or beg him.

"Oh, you must have found him," Yang Hai said a moment later.

"Yang Hai, I can't believe you-what are you doing?" His curiosity got the better of him.

Yang Hai glanced at him. "You know a Net Go player called Sai? He's supposed to be from Japan. This is his kifu. I'm entering his data into my computer."

"What-why?"

"Because I'm trying to see if I can create a program that can play Go, using Sai's data," Yang Hai said patiently. "It's part of my project to build a computer that can beat anyone at Go."

"That's-" he stopped short of saying impossible, and asked, "Where's Le Ping?"

Yang Hai shrugged. "Don't worry. He's all right."

"But-"

"Just go home, Isumi," Yang Hai stopped what he was doing to look at him. "I'm trying to find the Hand of God here, and you're distracting me. Le Ping is fine. Go back to Japan first."

He did as Yang Hai said, eventually. Back to his life and its busy schedule of games and teaching duties. Autumn was the beginning of the title season, and he had more games than he knew what to do with.

At night, he lay in bed and dreamt of Le Ping.

-----------------------------

16: Why do you keep counting?

Where did Shindou find his students?

Intellectually, Touya knew that Shindou got teaching assignments the same way he did--through the Go Institute. The majority of people who hired Go pros as teachers fell into two main groups: young, aspiring Go pros, and older amateurs who studied Go in their spare time. But why did it feel as though Shindou had the weirdest students possible in the mix? Last week, he had taught a girl who insisted that she was good enough not to use the 13x13 board anymore.

Touya had agreed, with some trepidation, and they had began to play. After only fifteen hands, though, he concluded that the only advantage in using the 19x19 board was that it lengthened the physical distance between them. Her dark eyeliner made her eyes look bigger than they really were--Touya had not realized before how alarming that was, until he was forced to come within a goban's reach of her.

It didn't help that faced with a larger goban, she was totally lost. Her Go, Touya saw, was not even suitable for a smaller goban--it was too immature. It took all of Touya's tact to suggest that she should hone her skills on the small goban first.

She had scowled, and said, "You too?"

"Excuse me?"

"That's what Shindou-sensei said," she said. "Except he wasn't as polite. He said I sucked at Go, and should play tic-tac-toe instead."

"W-what?" That was inexcusably rude.

She giggled. "Your expression, sensei!"

Touya made himself look at her more sternly.

She grinned, not one whit abashed, and continued, "I thought Shindou-sensei was the only pro who was that honest. All the other pros I had before just let me use the full-size goban. I had to endure ten other pros before I got him. Count that. Ten!" She held up both hands, fingers widespread. "Then, just when I was getting ready to throw him out, he told me to stop pretending, and play properly."

'Pretending.' Touya suddenly understood why Hikaru had her as a student. "And will you do so now, Murakami-san?" he asked.

She smiled, more genuine now. "Of course, sensei." She cleared the goban. "Shindou-sensei always gives me four stones," she said.

Touya raised his eyebrows.

"Six stones," she admitted.

"I'll hold you to that," Touya said, and they played in earnest.

It was a good game after

That was last week. Yesterday's student was different. Touya was starting to regret his offer to help Shindou.

Yesterday's assignment was a boy of about ten who couldn't seem to sit still enough for a game, but to Touya's relief, calmed down after they started to play. His Go was strong for his age, giving credence to the claim that he intended to become a pro one day.

Until the game proceeded to seichi. He was a little slower than Touya in arranging the territories into easily-counted squares, and when they finished, he continued to stare at the goban.

Touya could have told him that he had won the game by two-and-a-half moku, but he wanted Itsuki-kun to find out for himself. So he waited. And waited. Finally, he prompted, "Itsuki-kun, what are you doing?"

Itsuki looked up. "I'm counting the territory, sensei," he said earnestly, and pointing at the goban, he began counting under his breath, "One moku, two moku, three..."

It took twenty minutes, because he kept losing his count. When he was done, Touya taught him the proper way, but Itsuki only shrugged. "That's what Shindou-sensei always says. But I want to count it one by one; it's more real, that way."

Yes, Shindou's students were odd. Even the seemingly normal had odd quirks, like the one who sat in front of Touya, recording the game they had just played. It wasn't that Touya disapproved of the practice. It was the way Oshima laboriously counted off the intersections in his low drone as he wrote. "-16, 17. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. 17-5. Right. Next..."

Touya was about to snatch the kifu sheet out of his hands and record the game for him. It was torture to sit and wait there, watching him.

But finally Oshima was finished. He thanked Touya for his time, and asked, "And is Shindou-sensei getting better now?"

"Yes, he is." All of Shindou's students were concerned for him.

"Oh, good." Oshima said, turned to another page on his notebook, and made a note there. He looked up and met Touya's curious eyes. "I like to count how many times I've seen Shindou-sensei."

***

It wasn't until Touya was on the way home that he realized that he liked to count how many times he'd seen Shindou, too.

-----------------------------

17: You bring out the sunshine underground

Shindou supposed that it had been a bit mean of him to make Touya take over his students.

Then again, they annoyed Touya so much that he had stopped hovering over Shindou like a mother hen. In fact, Touya had even given him a rather cold reply when Shindou--deliberately putting on an innocent face--asked him how the teaching sessions were.

Shindou mentally rubbed his hands together in glee.

Just then, his notebook computer on the bed gave a beep to indicate that his Net Go opponent had responded. Shindou sighed inwardly, feeling overwhelmed as he looked down at his desk where he was sitting, at the pair of crutches leaning against the wall, and then at the bed on the other end of the room. True, his bedroom was not big, but-

He was halfway there when someone knocked on his door. "I'm naked!" he yelled, not wanting his mother to enter and help him.

The door opened anyway.

"Mum-" Shindou turned his head around and put on his best whine, ignoring the fact that his best whine was sounding a bit breathless. "Touya?"

It was Touya, all right, still in the suit he usually wore for teaching sessions. He was looking a little anxious, but contrary to Shindou's expectations, he didn't rush over to help Shindou right away.

Shindou glanced at his clock. "Touya, you're early."

Touya closed the door behind him and continued to stand there. "Another four steps," he observed critically. "Can you make it, or should I-"

"Ha!" Shindou rested on his good leg and waved a crutch at him. "Just stand there and watch me perform miracles!" A bit hurt that his lover hadn't rushed over, but relieved as well, Shindou concentrated on putting one foot in front of another in tandem with his crutches. As Touya had estimated, it was four steps.

Shindou sat heavily on his bed. His physical therapist promised him that he would regain full use of his leg--and left arm--but it would take time. That meant there was light at the end of the tunnel--but in the meantime, Shindou thought, it was a very dark tunnel, and the weakness and pain kept dragging him down, despite his best efforts. The nightmares about the accident didn't help. He pulled the notebook computer towards him and studied the hand that 'Mickey_Mouse' had just played.

A shadow fell over him. Touya was sitting down beside him, though his concentration was on the Net Go screen. "Your last ten hands are erratic and illogical," he said.

"They are not!" Shindou said. He played a response. "Just watch." He waited, then recalled why he had been sitting at the desk just now. "Well, not really, because he takes about ten minutes to reply each time. I think he's discussing the game with a friend." He put the notebook down.

"That's too long. We have an appointment, remember? I borrowed Ogata-san's car."

"Oh, I'll just send him a note to postpone the game then," Shindou said, suiting his action to his words. "You know, I think he sounds relieved," he said as 'Mickey_Mouse' replied almost immediately.

"Shall we go now?"

"Are you going to be helping me?"

"Would you like me to?"

Shindou thought for a second. "Just down the stairs."

***

In the car, back from having his hair professionally dyed, Shindou said, "How come you didn't rush over and help me today?"

Touya gave him a glance before turning back to the traffic. "Because you wanted to do it yourself."

"You knew that?"

Touya's lips quirked. "You yelled 'I'm naked!' just to avoid having anyone come in."

Shindou glanced at himself in the sideview mirror. No, he wasn't naked any more. His hair looked the same again--it gleamed like sunshine in the afternoon sun--and he felt perfectly confident for the first time in many days.

-----------------------------

18: Holding your poly-morphing opinion

Opinions in the Go Institute were divided. Touya had heard all of it, despite his being away due to Shindou's accident. Kanemitsu Ichirou, who was in charge of scheduling the Go games--and in this case, re-scheduling Shindou's games--had laid them out for him. They were part of the reason why Shindou absolutely had to come back to the competitive circuit so quickly--if the accident had happened to anyone else, he would have been advised to take a lengthy leave of absence in order to recover fully.

"-so you see, there is a need to dispel doubts among certain quarters of the community, lest these rumours damage Shindou-sensei's reputation."

Touya frowned. "I find it hard to believe that there are those who would think less of Shindou-sensei for playing Net Go," he said bluntly. It was not that, he knew, but the rumours of Sai.

Kanemitsu looked pained. He was in his forties, a stocky, balding man whose pleasant, approachable expression belied his analytical mind. "I hate to be frank, Touya-sensei," he said, "but you must understand, Shindou-sensei's rise has been rapid-"

"So has mine," Touya said. He said it without arrogance; it was just something that happened that way.

But you are Touya Kouyo's son, Kanemitsu's expression seemed to say. He coughed politely. "Yes, but you are not the one who is being suspected of being... a Net Go player." He said it as though being a Net Go player was something to be ashamed of.

Touya knew it wasn't really that. "You mean that he's suspected of being Sai."

Kanemitsu nodded. "Since the rumours started, there have been a number of complaints that Shindou-sensei misrepresented his skills when he was just an insei, and as a candidate in the Pro Exams."

So far back? Touya could not help protesting, "Shindou-sensei passed the Pro Exam on his own merit."

"Yes, but did he do it by pretending to be weaker than he actually was?" Kanemitsu asked, watching Touya's reaction from behind his glasses.

Touya refused to rise to the bait. "Shindou-sensei is an honorable man and would have never behaved like that."

A glimmer of approval entered the other man's eyes. "Yes, he is," Kanemitsu said. "That is only one of the disadvantageous rumours about Shindou-sensei, however." He paused, and continued, "It is the opinion of many that Sai forced a number of prominent pros into retirement: Tanaka 9-dan, Nakamura Gosei, and Miyazaki Dan, not to mention your own father-"

"But that's-" Touya stopped before he could give anything away. His father had retired because of the agreement he made with Sai--or rather, with Shindou--but he was certain that it had happened only once. "My father was hardly forced into retirement, Kanemitsu-san. It was a personal decision."

"I'm only telling you what some believe," Kanemitsu said. "Personally, I feel that your honored father is the only opponent that Sai was serious about. Tanaka-sensei, Nakamura-sensei and Miyazaki-sensei have been implying that Sai intimidated them for years, but few people have taken their claims seriously until..." he hesitated.

"The rumours started," Touya said. He had known from the start that rumours such as these were not easily squashed, and that their repercussions would be difficult to deal with.

"Once there is an available target, I'm afraid there will be those who will be eager to attack. Just as in Go," Kanemitsu said.

Irrationally, Touya was very much tempted to rebuke this man for his poor understanding of Go. In his experience, those who attacked obvious targets were usually oblivious to the fact that their target had defenses. To do so was fruitless and a waste of resources; valuable time was used up that could have been used to strengthen one's shape instead.

"In this case, much of the discontent focuses not merely on Sai's unbeatable record," Kanemitsu said, "but also on Shindou-sensei's achievements. He has won the Japan Cup for two years running, and took the NHK Cup last year with a series of very close games. I believe you are aware there was some controversy regarding a disputed game..."

"That happens every year," Touya pointed out. Go pros being what they were, it was not surprising to come across disputed games; accusations of cheating were not uncommon either.

"Indeed," Kanemitsu agreed, "it does. But there are always those who prefer to believe that their opponent had an unfair advantage. If it isn't Shindou-sensei threatening pros by using his other identity as Sai, then it is Shindou-sensei tapping his fan and intimidating them into resigning."

"That-" Touya struggled not to lose his temper. Though there was no way Shindou could have known about this, Touya wondered if there was some prescient ability in Shindou that had pushed him to set a date for the Meijin title games so quickly. "That is indeed unreasonable."

Kanemitsu nodded. "And the fact that you, Touya-sensei, approached me instead of Shindou-sensei, and the relationship between the two of-" he stopped suddenly, as though he had seen something terrible in Touya's expression.

That was one aspect of the rumours Touya preferred not to hear. "Yes?" he asked.

Kanemitsu looked as though as he would like to physically defend himself. Instead, he said, "That is not important," he said, still watching Touya.

Touya made himself calm down.

"If Shindou-sensei-" Kanemitsu hesitated, then continued in a brisker voice."Shindou-sensei must defend his title, and he must do it in a way that shows that he is indeed one of the top players in the Go world today. That is the best way to restore his credibility."

Indeed, skill trumped everything. Touya understood that it would not squash all the rumours, but at least Shindou's Go would convince others that one, he was not Sai, and two, even if for some fantastic reason he were, he was worthy of his title.

"That means you, Touya-sensei, would be under scrutiny as well," Kanemitsu said.

"Meaning that I shouldn't go easy on him?" Touya asked, raising his eyebrows.

Kanemitsu bowed. "I apologise; I meant no insult."

Touya sighed. "It's all right," he said, and meant it. Kanemitsu would not be human if he didn't think that Touya was tempted to make things easy for an opponent who was not only recovering from life-threatening injuries, but was his lover as well.

But Kanemitsu had no way of knowing that this was something Touya would never do. It went against everything the foundations of his and Shindou's relationship--and most of all, their rivalry. He could never betray that.

-----------------------------

19: The hustle and bustle of the traffic greets you

"The Go Institute's that way, Kaga."

Despite the fact that Shindou was in the back seat, Kaga managed to reach around and plant a not-so-gentle punch on his shoulder. "That's Kaga-senpai to you," he said. He caught Shindou's gaze in the backview mirror. "Or Kaga-sensei, if you prefer," he smirked.

Shindou was not the only one who made a living playing board games.

"Kaga-senpai."

Still the stubborn kid he'd known in junior high. "Che, you're stuck respecting me either way," he said. "I'm still your senior, you-"

"Kaga-senpai, t-that bus!"

Rolling his eyes at the excitability of some people, Kaga put on a burst of speed, and overtook the bus that had been trying to move into his lane. "Stupid bus drivers," he muttered, and glanced at Shindou again. The kid--no longer a kid, actually--was looking pale. At this rate, he was going to lose his game. "What happened to the maniac who knocked you down, anyway?"

"Huh?" Shindou finally took his gaze off the windscreen, to Kaga's regret. He had been about to ask Shindou in his best sarcastic tone, if he would like to watch the traffic for him. "Uh, you know about my accident?"

Kaga snorted. "Egoistic, aren't we? You were walking on crutches, I might remind you. And before I forget, don't forget to take those things with you when you get off. They're unlucky."

"As though I can get around without them," Shindou retorted.

The kid had spirit, Kaga thought. He expected that from someone who managed to stay calm even though he was fifteen minutes late to a title game. They continued in companionable silence for the next few minutes, before Shindou offered, "It wasn't his fault--I was the one who appeared in front of him, out of the blue."

"And how did something that stupid happen?" Kaga asked. Funny, the kid didn't look brain damaged, though it was hard to tell; just look at the way his skills had manifested--or not--during that time they tried to fake their way through the school Go tournament. On and off, like a malfunctioning light bulb.

Shindou looked as though he was dredging up unhappy memories, but he answered anyway (that seniority was good for something after all). "I was talking to a friend, and we didn't watch where we were going," he said.

On second thought, put in a positive for brain damage, Kaga thought. There was something Shindou wasn't saying. "What were you talking about, anyway, to make you careless like that?"

Shindou's expression turned stubborn in the rearview mirror, meaning he wasn't going to explain.

Kaga thought about it. He wasn't stupid; and though his current area of concentration was shogi, he still read Go-orgeous--it featured a lot of female pros--once in a while. (Which was to say, he read it at the newsstand, making sure to crumple it as he put it back so it would be unsaleable.) "It was something to do with Sai," he said.

Shindou's eyes widened a fraction. "Yes, but how-" he stopped. "Kaga-senpai, I didn't know you were so interested in Go gossip," he said instead, his expression becoming amused.

Damn kid, counterattacking and sassing his senpai like that. Those Go reflexes were influencing his personality for the worse. "It got my attention because I've heard the name Sai before, in relation to you."

It was interesting, the way Shindou's eyes widened and his face pale. "W-what?"

"You talk to yourself a lot as a kid, don't you know?" Kaga said. He dodged a passel of motorcycles, congratulating himself on remaining calm. He never forgot the day he had stumbled upon Shindou on the rooftop while hiding from the vice principal, and heard Shindou talk into thin air, whining 'Sai' at every other turn. It had made his hair stand on end. "I overhear a lot of things," he said casually.

Shindou was paler than ever.

Shit, at this rate he was really going to lose. "Relax," he said. "It's not as though I'm going to be telling anyone else. It was a long time ago."

"They think I'm Sai," Shindou said after a while.

"And are you?"

"No."

Kaga had decided long ago that either Shindou was delusional, or he was talking to someone--something--that couldn't be seen by other humans. It was his fervent belief that Go invited all kinds of attention, some of it not of this world. It was the mystical nature of the game. Give him shogi any day. "Then it's the other kind," he decided, more to himself than to Shindou.

Shindou raised his head at that. "What?"

Thank goodness the lunchtime traffic crowd was fading. With a shrug, Kaga swerved his car towards the entrance of the Go Institute. "Nothing," he said as he stopped the car. "You're late for your game, kid. Go on, get out."

Shindou gave him another look, but gathered his crutches. "Thanks for the lift, Kaga-senpai," he said.

"Yeah, yeah."

Shindou opened the door, and climbed out slowly.

Kaga squinted at the small group of people who had been gathered in front, and now approached Shindou. "Shit, is that-" he undid his seatbelt and got out of the car.

Shindou was now standing beside a man his own age who wore a pale blue suit with a black tie. They seemed to be talking anxiously, and looked up when Kaga approached.

"You're Touya Akira," Kaga said without preamble, directing his words at the man beside Shindou.

Touya bowed to him. "Thank you for helping Shindou to get here," he said. "We hadn't expected the car we arranged to break down suddenly-"

Kaga pointed at Shindou. "You're playing Touya Akira? You better beat him, kid, or I'm coming after you." Then he got into his car, ready to dive back into the traffic.

-----------------------------

20: Your heart is an empty room

He kept telling himself that this couldn't be real. He was tempted to stop and run out of there, as he had done years ago and couldn't bear to face the truth that Sai was never going to come back.

It wasn't that the game in front of him didn't make sense. It did--and it was terrifying in its familiarity and explosive potential. Each hand was filled with possibilities, each more than he would ever be able to calculate, he knew.

He had started the game with disbelief and a little anger. All right, a lot of anger, and he could tell where it had affected his game.

His opponent, on the contrary, was as unruffled as he remem- no, he had to keep a clear head.

This was not Sai.

Not even a little bit!

Shindou unconsciously gritted his teeth. He did not usually have a problem concentrating, but the uncanny similarities were throwing him off. How did they expect him to play with- He recalled where he was, and turned around. "How?" he asked.

Yang Hai looked clinically interested. "It's real, then?" he asked.

"Real?" Shindou didn't remember a time when his voice had actually shook, not even when he was in hospital, but it was shaking now. "It's n-not real!" he managed to protest. "But-"

"But?" Yang Hai prompted.

He looked down at the useless keyboard, then at the computer mouse, still loosely cradled in his right hand. "It's so similar that it could be. How did that happen?"

There was visible pride in Yang Hai's countenance as he looked at the computer. "It's a program that I developed using only Sai's data," he said.

Shindou felt faint. Only Sai's data. "W-what?"

Yang Hai leant forward in his chair. "I've managed to collect nearly all of Sai's data during the time he played Net Go. He was online for a whole month, and in that month he never lost. I used that everything I could find to create a program that would play like him."

The implications of what Yang Hai was saying sank slowly into Shindou's mind. "But why-" he hesitated, and looked away from the game on the screen to concentrate on the fan between his fingers. "What made you decide to ask me to test this program?"

Yang Hai shrugged. "Oh, Isumi didn't tell you? He and Le Ping both tested this program when it was in its beta stages. They were the ones who suggested you."

Shindou's head whipped up to look behind Yang Hai, where Isumi and Le Ping were standing together. Both of them looked a little guilty. "Why?" he asked them. "Because of the rumours?"

Isumi looked more uncomfortable than ever, which to Shindou, was a sure sign of guilt. "Actually," Isumi began slowly, "I never did believe the gossip that you were Sai when you were an insei. I remember when you, Waya and I challenged Go salons to practice for the Go Exam--your Go was still raw and developing--it couldn't be you... remember the game with Hon Su-yeon?"

"Then?"

"But there are times, if I study your Go very carefully-" Isumi seemed to be focusing only on him. "I can see traces of Sai."

"It could be due to the fact that he studies Sai's Go," Touya said, appearing behind Isumi. He slowly made his way towards the computer, and sat down in the chair beside Shindou.

"Many players do," Isumi agreed. "But the Sai that I can see in Shindou's Go is not just the result of study. It's as though he learnt Go from Sai."

Yang Hai nodded. "I saw that, as soon as Isumi pointed it out. It's funny, because outwardly, your Go style might as well be Sai's opposite. But there's an influence. I figured that if there's anyone who can test the program for me, it would be you."

Shindou felt his heart twist at that. Of all the people in the Go community who would be right for testing a computer program based on Sai's Go, he was surely the most qualified. He just wasn't sure his emotional state could bear it.

"It's really him?" Touya asked.

Shindou shook his head violently. "It's not Sai, anymore than Le Ping is Waya, for all that they look alike. But it's damn close." He looked at Yang Hai. "What are you going to do with it?"

Yang Hai studied his notes. "Well-" he said. "First I need you to finish the game with the program, and I'll tweak it a little bit more if necessary, before I release it to the world."

"Other players, you mean," Le Ping said. Catching Shindou's eye, he elaborated, "On the internet."

Shindou felt his heartbeat quicken as the full, Machiavellian nature of Yang Hai's plan emerged. Sai had always been someone who played only on the internet. For a machine 'Sai' to surface now, playing in a similar way as the original Sai...

"People will be clamoring to play with Sai," Yang Hai concluded. "And we'll be able to see how well the learning component of my program works. If it does, it means that I'm on my way to building a program that can beat any Go player on earth."

"But why?" Shindou asked. The pain of losing Sai never really disappeared from his heart, though it had grown fainter with time. Every May he felt compelled to mourn, somehow, and on the rare occasions when he dreamt of Sai, he still woke up with tears in his eyes.

Yang Hai looked surprised that he even needed to ask. "So that I can find the hand of God, or course," he said. "Isn't that the ultimate aim of Go?"

Shindou was violently reminded that this was Sai's aim as well, and he only nodded awkwardly. Before the others could say anything, he turned back to the computer, determined to finish the game.

It was past midnight by the time he finished. Yang Hai clucked like an anxious hen over the kifu and observed, "It's like you know Sai's mind."

Shindou nodded, but it was in exhaustion and not in agreement.

"You were a good choice for testing this program," Yang Hai said. Despite the lateness of the hour, he still sounded energetic and focused. "Of course, the results were what I had expected."

Le Ping, sitting on the floor and leaning against Isumi, glanced up, stifling a yawn. "Really?" he asked.

Yang Hai nodded. "Well, you can't expect a computer program to defeat a human yet."

"Yet?" Le Ping said skeptically.

"It needs more tests," Yang Hai said. "Shindou, Touya, can you-" he looked disappointed. "You're going back already?"

"It's been a long game," Touya answered before Shindou could. "And Shindou still needs to rest. I'm driving him home." He had finally bought a small Toyota last week. He picked up Shindou's walking stick--they had exchanged the crutches for the steel contraption only yesterday--and passed it to him.

Numbly, Shindou took it, and stood up.

Isumi stood up as well. "I'll see you two out," he said. At the door, he bowed apologetically to Shindou. "I apologise if Yang Hai and I have offended in any way," he said in his soft, kind voice. "I can see that Sai was very important to you." His eyes were penetrating.

Shindou thought of the game he had played with this strange, fake 'Sai'. Despite intellectually knowing that it was only a computer program, he had wanted it to be real. It was hard to remember that the Sai he saw in the game was a mere memory, a mere combination of kifu. And in the end, when he won the game, there was only emptiness.

In the car, he cried.

-----------------------------

21: I'm sick of waking up on your floor

Waya woke up, and promptly wished he hadn't. His head felt like it was splitting apart from the inside out, leaving his brains to melt out of his ears. He must have groaned, because in the next moment a face came into view.

"Waya-san! Are you feeling all right?"

Normally Waya liked Shigeki very much, but at this moment he wished that she would stop shouting.

"Dad!" Shigenko's face disappeared, to be replaced by her even louder voice. "He's awake!" Waya whimpered.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, Waya's sensei came into the room. His heavy footsteps seemed to pound into Waya's head. "Waya," he said.

Waya looked up, his sleepy befuddlement rapidly changing into wariness at his sensei's tone.

The years had been kind to Morishita Shigeo. There was more white in his heavy-set hair, and the jowls around his cheek hung a little more prominently, but otherwise he still looked much the same as the first time Waya had met him.

Except for an extended period during his children's growing years when he had taken time off from competitive Go--and when he took on students like Waya--Morishita had continued to make strides in the Go world. His rise was not as meteoric as his contemporary, Touya Kouyo, but he was a formidable player for all that. He was coming up against Ogata for the Gosei title that very year, in fact, and odds on his side were judged to be fair by observers. Now he studied his favourite student with a frown. "Get cleaned up and meet me in the Go room," he said and left.

Shigeki had a hand to her mouth, for she had seldom heard her father speak so sternly, and she tiptoed towards Waya. "Are you all right?" she whispered, as though afraid that she would be scolded too.

Waya belatedly realized that he was still wearing the remains of his beer, and pulled himself up to sit upright. He looked around; he was on a futon in the room that belonged to Kazuo, Shigeki's brother. "I'm all right," he said, and kicked off the blanket.

Shigeki nodded. "Just change into niisan's clothes," she said, nodding at the wardrobe. "I'll go and let Mum know you're awake." She skipped out of the room, more like a schoolgirl than a university student.

He had spent the night often enough that he knew the drill; Kazuo didn't mind sharing his clothes, and there was even a toothbrush set aside for him. It wasn't just because he played late into the night with his sensei; there were times when he had too much to drink, and didn't feel like going back to his empty apartment.

Come to think of it, the latter instances had been a lot more prevalent in recent weeks.

By the time Waya had washed his face, changed into a fresh T-shirt, and entered the Go room to sit down opposite his sensei, he had an inkling what Morishita wanted to say.

Morishita, to his credit, had been watching his student's face as Waya entered. He stayed silent just long enough to unnerve Waya, then asked, "You've been spending a lot of nights in my house." The tone of his voice made it clear that he was talking about all the times he had knocked at the door of the Morishita residence after too much alcohol.

Waya gulped. He had half-hoped that his sensei would start lecturing first--he had the tendency to vear into other topics when he did that. "I'm sorry," he apologised immediately, bowing low. "I won't do it aga-"

"I didn't mean that," Morishita said, and Waya jumped. Morishita gave him a sharp look. "I thought it was because you've been feeling guilty over Shindou's accident-"

"I-"

"-but now I think it isn't just that. What happened, Waya?"

Waya shifted miserably. His head was still hurting, and much as he liked and trusted his sensei, this just wasn't something he wanted to tell another human being. "Shindou's already forgiven me," he mumbled, not knowing why he sounded defensive about it.

"But you haven't forgiven yourself. What is it?"

Waya looked down at the floor. It was easy to assume that just because his sensei could be loud, he was careless as well. It was the same mistake he always made with Shindou, too. Just because Shindou was frequently loud and overly cheerful, it didn't mean that he didn't have his secrets. And by pushing for those secrets, Waya had come close to betraying his own code: judging people by their appearances.

He had done that with Touya Akira when he was younger, and that old prejudice now made a friendship between them next to impossible. He had been determined not to repeat that mistake, but- "I've said things about Shindou and Touya," he said, "just because I was angry at them." He gathered his courage. "I said-"

Morishita said, "I don't need to know."

Waya stared at him.

Morishita went on, "I've said this before: you're my best student, but sometimes you hold yourself back because of a reluctance to take a risk. I'm not saying that you are a coward--far from it--but there are times, Waya, when you must take action without fear of the consequences. What happens when you can read the game perfectly?"

Taken aback by the sudden switch to Go, Waya struggled for a second. "There's no such thing as reading a game perfectly," he said by rote.

"That's right!" Morishita said, giving him a start at his loud exclamation. "However well you think you've read a game, there is always the unexpected."

Waya was suddenly reminded of his Pro Exam game with Shindou. Then, he had assumed that he had blocked Shindou perfectly too. And Shindou had found a way out. What his sensei was saying was-

Morishita continued, hands on his knees and staring at Waya. "You think that things can't go back to normal again. You're right."

Waya's jaw dropped. "But-"

"But you can make it better than before. In Go, you can't change the position of your stones. You can only build on it, and turn a disadvantageous shape into a harmonious one. Just as it is with your friends. You can't reverse the accident, and you certainly can't unsay the things you've said about them."

The look in Morishita's eyes, serious and hard, made Waya realize that his sensei had heard those rumours too. He had talked only to the tabloids, but as in everything else, it was all interconnected: he should have known that sooner or later, his sensei would know. "But you have to admit to yourself that you were wrong-"

"I know I'm wr-"

Morishita's gaze intensified. "Do you?" he asked. "In that case, why are you still drinking?"

Waya's mouth went dry.

"Move forward, Waya. Whether you have lost Shindou's trust or not, you have to move on. Make amends to Shindou if you want to regain it--show him that you're still his friend. Even if you can't bring yourself to do that, you still have to move on. I know you're courageous enough for that."

It was the 'courageous' that made Waya stiffen. He had stopped thinking of himself as brave for a long time. That his sensei still thought so- He made up his mind there and then. "I will," he said. He would prove worthy of his sensei's opinion of him--no, he had to do it for himself. "I will," he repeated. It suddenly seemed like a waste to have spent so much time drinking himself to oblivion and spending the night in his sensei's home. He felt disgusted with himself.

Morishita watched him for a long time, before he finally nodded, as though he had found what he wanted in Waya's expression. "Good," he said.

Waya couldn't help but relax.

"So you better stop coming to sleep on my floor from now on!" Morishita barked.

-----------------------------

22: Your spectrum’s a to z

The more he studied Shindou's Go, the more Yang Hai felt that perhaps he should have used the kid's data instead. Sai was the best choice for all the reasons he'd stated to Touya Kouyo, but Shindou's Go was uncanny, too. Fast and thorough, Shindou read with the concentration of the truly paranoid, seeing meaning that the less alert could only dream of. His responses on the goban were even more amazing: it ran the gamut from direct to complicated and ended somewhere on a level of labyrinthine twisted that made his head hurt just to contemplate it.

On the other hand, Touya Akira's go showed the direct influence of his father. Even though his playing style had steadily veered away from Touya Kouyo as he matured as a pro, it was still obvious to anyone who knew his father's Go. Touya Akira's Go built up as steadily as his father's--unshakable too, even under the strongest batterings--with strong, inspired shapes that never grew staid or old. It matched surprisingly well with Shindou Hikaru's Go: a sleek panther against a playful tiger. He had assumed that Touya Akira's Go would be dull, and it was anything but.

Sai was the only player he had seen who had truly mastered the skill of playing tricky, yet direct Go. His style was poetic and almost lyrical, never crude--and each hand was perfectly placed; never too strong or too weak. What frightened Yang Hai was that not only did Shindou's Go show the same devastating potential, but Touya Akira's did, too.

"Yang Hai, are you still up?" Le Ping stuck his head in, and he raised his eyebrows when he saw all the sheets of kifu scattered around the room.

"I think they're all worth studying," Yang Hai said.

-----------------------------

23: If you find yourself caught in love

{Three years ago.)

The doorbell buzzed. Isumi opened it to find a familiar, longed-for face. His heart began to race, and memories of his search two months ago came flooding back: the sweat-soaked body clinging to him, the exchange of kisses...

Le Ping had a smile that told Isumi he was thinking of the exact same encounter. "About that night," Le Ping began in Japanese, then said, with a faintly worried look, "Guess what?"

"W-what?"

"I-I think I'm pregnant."

Isumi did not realize that his mouth had dropped open, even as Le Ping began to laugh like a hyena.

Someone else said in Chinese, "Stop that!" and accompanied that with a cuff at Le Ping's head.

Le Ping ducked, and clung to the wall, still laughing. "But his face!" he answered in the same language, pointing at Isumi.

Yang Hai came into view. Isumi hadn't noticed him because all this attention was on Le Ping, but now he saw that Yang Hai was dragging a suitcase after him. "Oi, get your own suitcase. It's still outside the lift," he said to Le Ping, who made a face at him but went off, still laughing. "Isumi, good to see you. Sorry we didn't call before dropping in."

Isumi helped Yang Hai with his suitcase, as it turned out that Yang Hai had a backpacker's rucksack strapped behind him as well, and could hardly bend down. They could still hear Le Ping's whoops of laughter echoing down from the direction of the lift lobby. Luckily it was afternoon; Isumi's neighbours were all out at work and not at home to be curious about him.

"I told him he was insane," Yang Hai remarked in Japanese as he took off his shoes. "But he insisted on surprising you like this."

"Y-you a-and him..." Isumi stuttered.

"Ah, he speaks," Yang Hai said, pushing his shoes into a corner before padding into the living room on socked feet. He looked around. "You know, Tokyo has everything that's good and modern--except a decent-size apartment. In Beijing, you could buy a house with the money you're making, but here..." he shook his head. "Two tiny bedrooms."

Isumi finally regained his senses. "W-what?"

"It's good that Le Ping's sharing your room. More space for me in your spare room," Yang Hai said, before turning around to the door. "Ah... he'll need some help with his bags," he said meaningfully, and gave Isumi a push towards the door for good measure.

Stumbling a little--from the push or from his nervousness?--Isumi reached the doorway just in time to see Le Ping struggling with a suitcase, a bag about as large as himself, and what was obviously a goban in a cardboard box.

"Yang Hai," Le Ping was grumbling under his breath. "You bastard, come and help me!"

Isumi went forward instead, taking the goban from his hands. "I'll help," he said, running his gaze eagerly over Le Ping, as though afraid to find that he was an illusion.

Surprisingly, Le Ping held on to it, refusing to let him take it. He stared into Isumi's eyes, all serious now. "Let go," he said.

"No," Isumi said, holding on just as tightly.

"I play Go too, Isumi," Le Ping said. "And I play Go for keeps."

Isumi found himself answering, "So do I."

Le Ping studied him for a second more, before a smile broke out over his face, and he grinned. "Okay. But you better take my suitcase instead," he said, all practical again. "I'll carry the bag and this."

Isumi managed to wrestle the suitcase into the living room to find Yang Hai grumbling at Le Ping, and found that he understood enough Chinese to know what they were saying. All that studying was paying off.

"We could hear that deranged laughter from in here," Yang Hai was saying. "Don't forget, I wrote that recommendation letter to the Japanese Go Institute for you. I told them you were law-abiding and sane. You owe me big-"

Le Ping stuck out his tongue.

"Er," Isumi interrupted. "Your suitcase-" he stopped, and frowned, "What letter?"

"The letter that recommended him," Yang Hai jabbed a thumb at Le Ping, "for a cultural exchange, so he can come to Japan and play as a pro here."

"Yeah," Le Ping said. "I have the invitation of the Go Institute. But why are you here?" he asked, pointing at Yang Hai.

Yang Hai made as though to cuff him again, and this time Le Ping ran and ducked behind Isumi.

"Firstly," Yang Hai said with exaggerated patience, "your parents told me to make sure you got here and settled down safely. You should be grateful to me. If it weren't for the fact that we're from the same province, I wouldn't even have bothered."

Isumi turned to Le Ping, who was still clinging to his side. "You mean your parents-"

Le Ping nodded, and squeezed Isumi's arm.

"They're not thrilled," Yang Hai said bluntly, "but seeing that Le Ping has been on his own since he was eleven, they know they can't really do anything else. Secondly," he went on, "the Japanese Go Institute invited me to promote inter-country friendship and cooperation, especially since cultural exchanges like this one-" he eyed Le Ping grimly, "may very well turn out to be permanent. And thirdly-"

" 'Thirdly'?" Le Ping piped up. "You never said there was a 'thirdly'!"

Yang Hai glared. "Do I have to report everything to you? I have a personal mission. I'll talk to Isumi about that later."

***

It was revealed over dinner that Yang Hai's third objective was to find out as much about Net Go player 'Sai' as possible. Isumi seldom played Net Go, but he had heard about Sai too. Mostly from Waya, but he knew that a number of pros also studied Sai's Go, especially Sai's game with Touya Kouyo. That put Sai's level on par with the high-ranking pros.

"Quite a number of Chinese pros played with Sai too," Yang Hai had said. "I've managed to obtain all of their kifu, and a large number of kifu of Sai's other games. But there are a few games that I couldn't get the records of. Then I'll also need to find out more about Sai, if possible."

"But why are you so interested in Sai?" Isumi had asked, half-wondering if Yang Hai's fascination was like Waya's, a mixture of worship and wanting to know exactly who had taunted him.

Yang Hai had looked up at that. "Remember I told you about searching for the Hand of God? I think using Sai's data will be my first step towards it." He looked as serious as Isumi had ever known him, and there was a look in his eyes that awed him. It was the look of a man who, for lack of better word, was in love.

The Hand of God, Isumi thought, his thoughts torn between nervousness and happiness. Le Ping's things had been hastily crammed into the bedroom, and a Chinese Go magazine on a pillow indicated that Le Ping had already staked out his 'side' of the bed.

Yang Hai had given them a wry look after dinner, and had disappeared into the spare room to set up his computer. He had commandeered Isumi's table and chair too, remarking that they wouldn't need it.

Le Ping flopped into bed beside him, wearing only a T-shirt and shorts, removed the Go magazine from the pillow and placed it on the bedside table.

Isumi turned to him instantly.

"Yang Hai is insane. Hand of God!" Le Ping rolled his eyes.

"Don't you want to find it?" Isumi asked.

"Of course," Le Ping said. "But I think you find it by playing... and maybe studying. Not by making a computer program!"

"Ah."

They sat in silence for a moment.

Le Ping said, almost nonchalantly, "Are you angry I teased you this afternoon?"

"Hm? Of course not!"

"Oh, good." Le Ping gave a chuckle. "Because your face was priceless. Just seeing it made me laugh and laugh."

"Uh-"

"In fact," Le Ping went on, "I laughed so much that my belly started to hurt."

"Le Ping?" Isumi was startled to find Le Ping's hand curling into his.

"Wanna feel?" And Isumi's hand found itself on Le Ping's stomach. His bare stomach.

He would have never expected a reconciliation like this, but the notion was settling inside him--he would not have exchanged this for the world.

There were pros, he knew, who would move heaven and earth to find the Hand of Go. As a Go player, Isumi's ambition was similar, but he couldn't help feeling that if the Hand of Go meant that one could play the perfect game--he already had it.

"Yes," he whispered, before he leant over and kissed Le Ping's belly button.

-----------------------------

24: The sudden wave of silver born in you

Touya had always felt that no matter how many times it happened, playing Go with Shindou would never be boring. Perhaps it because they had once waited so long to play with each other that the anticipation and excitement never really went away. Or that their Go styles matched and opposed in so many ways that each game was a series of new revelations. Shindou's Go never failed to surprise him--even when Shindou played badly.

Shindou was not playing badly now.

Touya shifted in his position, suddenly uncomfortable with the public scrutiny and wishing that they were alone. But excellent as his imagination was, the game officials and the audience in the room did not disappear. Their attention was entirely focused on the goban. Pachi. Shindou placed a stone with a decisive air, and well he might: it was the cornerstone of a trap that he was enticing Touya into.

Touya forbore to react, choosing to advance from another direction.

The second game of the Meijin title games, a mere week after Shindou had played that program of Yang Hai's. On the way back that night, Shindou had--for lack of better description--became totally distraught. Touya had stopped the car to comfort him, and sat with him for hours. They would have spent the night in the car were it not for Touya's concern that this would impede Shindou's recovery.

As far as Touya could figure out, it was the defeat over the 'Sai' program that in the end, had haunted Shindou the most. For years, Shindou had assumed that his mentor was invincible. Although Yang Hai's creation was just an imitation of Sai's Go, the victory was enough to hurt Shindou.

Shindou had been very quiet for days after that. Only when Touya had suggested the possibility of postponing their upcoming game had Shindou regained some of his usual spirit, with which he challenged Touya to a game (and lost).

Try as he might to ignore them, Touya knew that the murmurs starting among the audience was going to be the tip of the iceberg. It was not surprising, considering how Shindou was playing. This was a game that would be recorded, and when the kifu was published...

Touya was afraid that rumours about Shindou and Sai were going to be the least of it.

A click of stones as Shindou captured two of Touya's stones. Shindou was playing White, and under the unblinking florescent lights, it looked as though white stones were taking over the goban in a silvery wave. Touya's shape was being squeezed.

Even as they reached the Go Institute earlier, a couple of reporters had already accosted them with questions about Sai. Shindou had refused to comment. Indeed, he had ignored them altogether.

Touya very much feared that a refusal to entertain those questions--never mind flat-out denial--was going to be moot.

The Go world was going to have confirmation of what it had been speculating before long. Touya thought quickly. He could see how the game was going to play out. Two-and-a-half moku's loss, as it stood now. If he tried, he could reduce that to half a moku's loss. But the end result was the same.

As an experiment, he started a ko fight, using it to ease into Shindou's territory. Shindou didn't even hesitate. Within two hands, he had rebutted Touya, and at the same time, entrapped Touya's group of stones at the edge. Three-and-a-half moku. More silver was going to envelop his stones in no time.

He couldn't let this game go to yose. However improbable, he had to leave some room for doubt--for Shindou's sake, if not his. Touya stole a glance at the audience. Were there more whispers than ever?

It had to be now. Touya lowered his head, and said, "I have nothing."

The murmurs from the audience suddenly rose in pitch.

Shindou, his attention still on the goban, bowed his head in return. "Thank you for the game," he said.

"Thank you for the game," Touya intoned automatically, still with half an eye on the audience. Someone had taken out his cellphone and was calling a friend--at least Touya hoped it was a friend and not anyone from Let's Go! or Go-orgeous.

Shindou's voice broke into his thoughts. "Shall we discuss- ouch," he frowned, and placed both hands on his thigh. "Maybe after I walk about for a bit? My leg muscles are seizing up."

Touya belatedly saw that his lips were pale. He had guessed that the pain would affect Shindou's performance--he had been afraid of that--but this was a good opportunity to get him out of the Go Institute. At the back of his mind, he wondered if it was the pain that had caused Shindou to play in this way.

"I think we can discuss it later," Touya said. He gave the head official a look, which the man correctly interpreted.

"Right," Takeuchi said as he stood up and walked forward "Shindou-sensei, it has been a tiring game. If Touya-sensei doesn't mind-"

"I don't," Touya said.

"We can resume the discussion another time?"

Shindou looked relieved. He grabbed his walking stick and pulled himself to his feet. "Oh, sure. I'm fine with that."

Touya went to stand beside him. "Let's go back now."

Shindou looked a little uncertain, but assented to the firm look Touya aimed at him. They made their way out of the room, with Takeuchi keeping the audience from them. "Do you need your painkillers?"

"Later," Shindou said, then, "Yes."

When Shindou had gulped down two of the white tablets in the car and rested for a while, he frowned at Touya. "What happened? You resigned too quickly."

"I would have lost anyway," Touya said. He negotiated the traffic and drove towards the Touya residence. If reporters came calling, his mother was more than capable of dealing with them.

"Yeah, but it was too early for you. I know your style," Shindou insisted. Touya hesitated. Was it possible that Shindou was not really aware...? "I'll tell you later," he made a show of looking out for traffic. Inwardly, he was growing increasingly nervous.

How was he going to explain something that Shindou had not realized himself: that he had won the game by playing Sai's Go?

-----------------------------

25: Are you on Melrose Avenue?

It was almost ironic how media speculations came so close to guessing the truth, yet never really pinned it. Maybe it was no one wanted to be the first to accuse Shindou of cheating, in so many words. Or maybe the notion was simply too impossible to be imagined.

" 'Did Shindou Hikaru have a secret mentor?' " Shindou read the headline on the paper Touya was holding, even though Touya was seated on the other side of the room. Then again, it was hard to miss a three-inch high headline. "The implication being that my secret mentor is Sai, you mean," he said to Touya.

Touya held up another copy of Go-orgeous and showed him the headline. Was Shindou possessed at Meijin game? It was a headline that was certainly intended to be provocative.

The game of Go had its mystical connections--from certain early uses as a tool for divination, to old Chinese stories about gods playing Go--but to Go professionals who had been trying to battle preconceived notions about their devotion to an ancient game, anything that smacked of the supernatural was to be avoided as much as possible. The notion of the Hand of Go was perhaps the only acceptable exception, and even seasoned professions hesitated before bring that up with anyone who had never come across Go (which meant about 90% of the population).

"If they say that, it won't be long before the multiple personalities theory starts up," Shindou said in response to the headline.

"They don't call it 'multiple personalities' anymore," Touya said.

"Tell them that," Shindou said. He looked through the stack on the futon beside him. "Well, I've got another one." He held up Adult Games, a bi-monthly magazine that despite its unfortunate title and sometimes gaudy covers of badly-dressed people, actually reported serious news on professional Go, shogi and chess in Japan.

" 'Pro comes out of the dark in Meijin game', " Touya read. He and Shindou shared a look, and both groaned at the same time.

Shindou let his groan drag on for far longer than Touya. "That's it," he said finally, "If the puns about our names-"

"Your name, you mean."

"My name," Shindou amended smoothly. "If the puns about light and dark have appeared, it's a sign that the whole thing is descending into farce."

Touya didn't have the heart to tell him that it could also be a sign that some people were starting to lose their inhibitions about accusing Shindou of unprofessional conduct. If even a serious magazine was starting to use the language of the tabloids, surely the politely-worded inquiries from the Go Institute could not be far behind.

They had been holed up--to put it diplomatically--in the Touya residence for five days already, and they were ready to kill each other. There was something about being trapped, even if it was by curious, prurient-minded reporters, that sapped one's energy from normally delightful pursuits.

Such as playing Go all day.

The shock that he had been playing Sai's Go had worn off for Shindou after only a day. When asked, he had only mumbled something about 'trying to imagine what hand Sai would have played'. Evidently that was something that he used to do when he was younger. Touya could understand that; there had been times when he tried to imagine what his father would have done, too.

He deduced that under the combination of physical pain and misery over the encounter with the 'Sai' program, Shindou had confusedly used Sai's Go instead interpreting it through his usual style. It was a consistent mix-up, at least; Touya thought with more than a little admiration. It might as well have been Sai sitting before him in that game--no wonder the media were so intent on getting Shindou to 'explain' things.

And that was what Shindou would never do. Sai was Shindou's source of faith in Go, but Sai was also his sorrow. Which was why they were reduced to staying indoors and reading tabloid headlines to monitor the situation, instead of turning to other amusements.

Such as staying in bed all day.

"I wonder what Waya thinks of this," Shindou said.

Touya thought darkly that Waya Yoshitaka was probably beside himself with joy. All the times he had suggested that Sai was really Shindou, and now, there was actual evidence in the form of the game.

With a growl, Shindou pushed the stack of tabloids to one side and dragged his notebook computer to him.

"It's late," Touya said, after glancing at the clock, which showed 11 pm. "What are you planning to do?" They were, after all, sharing the room, and Touya felt that he would be unable to sleep if Shindou decided...

"Playing a game," Shindou said, his fingers flying over the keyboard. "I need to play with someone who has no idea who Sai is," he said.

Ah. Touya nodded a reply, and began picking up the copies of the tabloids. Many of them had advertisements for Melrose Avenue, a new housing project--Touya wondered idly if he and Shindou could move there to shake the reporters off. A moment later, an exclamation from the futon made him rush over. "What-" he began, before his eyes took in what the computer screen was showing him.

On the list of on-line players on the Net Go website was the name 'S.A.I.'

-----------------------------

26: Your hair was long when we first met

"Are they asleep?"

Even as he asked the question, Touya Kouyo reflected that it was not so long ago when he had asked, "Is he asleep?" every night--that was when Akira was still a small child, of course, and accustomed to being put to bed by his mother. Once Akira was safely asleep, they could talk.

Later, as Akira grew more serious about Go, he had grown frighteningly independent, and a formality had sprang up between him and his mother, but the ritual remained nonetheless.

"Yes," Akiko said, sitting down opposite him and accepting the cup of tea he had made for her with a smile. "Hikaru-san was more inclined to argue, but he agreed to lie down when I suggested it. He was asleep in no time."

Kouyo kept to himself the thought that Shindou Hikaru was actually scared of Akiko. He had witnessed the alarmed look he first gave when Akiko started calling him 'Hikaru-san' instead of 'Shindou-kun', perhaps misconstruing this change of address as veiled hostility. He still caught Shindou mouthing 'Hikaru-san?' whenever Akiko spoke to him. Shindou had no way of knowing that this was Akiko's way of accepting him into the family, and was clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It was extremely amusing.

"It's been a difficult time for them," Kouya said after a while. "First the accident, and then this."

Akiko shook her head, her eyes sobering at the reminder of the accident. She and Kouyo had visited daily while Shindou was in a coma, not just out of concern for him, but also for Akira, who seemed determined to wait until the end of days, if need be, for Shindou to wake up. "As for the rumours, isn't it just a ploy by the newspapers to increase circulation?" she asked.

"Some people would have seen it that way, but for the publication of the kifu and the appearance of Sai on the internet."

"Sai..." Akiko fell silent.

Kouyo himself had not heard of the rumors until an impertinent reporter called to ask what Touya Kouyo, retired pro, thought of Sai's 'return'. Then he had seen Shindou and Akira's sleepless faces, and the guilty twitches both made when he asked.

"Sai was the man you played with years ago, wasn't it?"

Kouyo had stopped wondering years ago how it was that his wife, though she didn't play Go, knew so much. He nodded. "Yes," he said and hesitated, then went on, "Shindou was the one who arranged that game. I made that promise with him, my promise to retire if I lost." He glanced at his wife to see if she was angered.

It was such an outrageous promise to make, though one he had undertook with the utmost seriousness at the time. But married life, he was given to understand, was generally meant to consist of mutual discussions on life-changing decisions such as early retirement.

"Oh!" she said.

She didn't sound angry. That was always a good sign.

"I knew it couldn't be the heart attack," she went on, in a tone of realization. "I did wonder, later, if it was the shock of losing to Sai, but you looked fine, and, well-" she smiled around her teacup, "you were excited about playing in China."

"Sai was an opponent worth waiting for," Kouyo said.

She frowned, as though she had suddenly remembered something. "Is he the reason you kept so many late nights, staying up by yourself in the study?"

He didn't answer, silent admitting to it. Indeed, she had been very patient with him. Kouyo wondered if she would try to take his temperature if he admitted that he had been waiting for Sai to materialise--somehow--and play with him.

"But why is there so much publicity and accusations about Shindou being Sai? They are not the same person."

He allowed himself to lean back just a little. "Not everyone thinks that," he said.

There was that outrage now. "And just because of that, reporters have been making up their own stories? They have no idea what they're doing to Hikaru-san, do they?"

"Reporters are fond of their freedom of speech," he said. "And the timing is unfortunate."

"Nasty little insinuations about the convenient appearance of Sai on the internet right soon after Hikaru-san plays like Sai?" she asked. "If Hikaru-san were truly Sai, he wouldn't have showed his hand like that."

She had a point. Kouyo didn't tell her that the kifu, published in Go Weekly, had showed a style of Go that had been uncannily similar to the Go he recognized as Sai's.

"Tabloids," she muttered in a rare show of temper. "Once they've repeated themselves a few times, they think it's the truth."

Kouyo wondered how Shindou would feel if he heard her. Perhaps he would be reassured--even relieved--to hear her defend him.

"It'll blow over," he said. "Soon some other scandal will come out, and people will forget."

"I'm sorry for the next person they attack, then," Akiko said. She tossed her head, finished her tea, and took the empty cup to the sink.

Kouyo was reminded that she used to have shoulder-length hair when they first met. She was endlessly patient and understanding then--and still was. Behind her back, he silently toasted her with his teacup.

-----------------------------

27: The complexity of your twilight

"I don't care about the rumours, you idiot," he said.

Shindou had given him an offended look at the 'idiot', but his expression had relaxed, as though he had been tense without knowing it.

"Let's see if the accident has scrambled your brains instead," he went on.

That had been more than enough to get Shindou to turn his outraged attention to the game. Though he counted Shindou as one of the few pros worthy of playing with him, there were times when Kuwabara could not help feeling his years. He had been in the Go world for a long time after all--with much of those years as a highly respected teacher and professional--and he had seen many pros come and go.

Even scandals. The same year he won his title, there had been a huge fuss over the suspicion that Ueda Meijin had secretly consulted his students in his two-day title games. Eventually the Go Institute had cleared him, and the doubts had died only when Ueda managed to keep his title for three years running. And who had not forgotten Shirokawa Hajime, who left the Go world due to his unprofessional behaviour (he stalked one of the game recorders until she made a police report)?

Under the guise of looking at the goban, Kuwabara judged the young man sitting opposite him through narrowed eyes. The sole concession made to Shindou's previous injuries was that they were playing on a desk and sitting on chairs. Kuwabara had grown accustomed to sitting on the floor. It was the only proper way to play Go, after all--one could study the goban and at the same time keep track of the shifts in posture made by one's opponent in order to predict his future hands.

Shindou's game was strong--Kuwabara did not care whether he was supposed to have played like this person 'Sai'--and that was both reassuring and annoying at the same time. Reassuring in that his brains seemed intact; annoying in that he was giving Kuwabara a challenge that was too forceful to work though at eight in the morning.

"Not too bad," Kuwabara said when they were entering chuban. "Maybe you'll manage to defend your title from Touya's son after all.'

Shindou gave him a look. "You're going to lose, old man," he said with the brash confidence that Kuwabara openly deplored (but secretly liked).

"Losing and winning are unimportant when a good game has been played," he said.

Shindou gave an audible--rude, that was--sniff of disbelief. "Yeah, right," he said. "Will you still say that if you win? You hate losing."

Kuwabara narrowed his eyes at him.

Instead of growing abashed, Shindou only grew bolder. "That's how you kept your position for so long," he said. "It wasn't just because your Go was better--it's because you hate to lose more than anyone else."

"Do you subject all your opponents to your erroneous psychological analysis?" Kuwabara asked.

Shindou reached into the go-ke, extracted a black stone, and placed it, all in one smooth motion. "Nope. But it provides a good distraction, don't you think?"

Kuwabara scowled. "Leave it for Touya's boy," he said.

Shindou eyed him for a moment. "You know, it's scary to think that you're older than Touya-sensei," he said. "Just think, one day Touya-sensei is going be like you: playing scary Go while making rude comments."

The 'scary Go' part pleased him. "Good. Think of what you have to look forward to. Touya's boy is just a copy of his father, after all."

"He is not!" Shindou protested, looking dismayed. "You horrid old man, you-"

Kuwabara took the opportunity to slap a stone down, next to Shindou's biggest group of stones.

"Hey, that's unfair!" Shindou protested, his gaze turning abstract even so, a sign that he was busy calculating potential counter-moves in his mind. After a moment, he countered.

"It's not fencing, boy," he said. "There's no honour on the battlefield. It doesn't have to be fair." He was feeling generous, so he added, "As you've no doubt found out for yourself."

Shindou got it immediately. Almost by instinct, his hand went to the wooden fan at his side. He took it, squeezed it in his fist for a second, and put it down again.

"It's not even a very interesting scandal," Kuwabara said reflectively.

Shindou's stiffening shoulders indicated that he was offended.

Young people made everything so complex, Kuwabara thought. Look at Ogata and the myriad ways he had thought of to counter Kuwabara's teasing. He didn't seem to have realized that all he needed to do was to work on his Go, and it would all fall into place. No, he kept trying this and that, convinced that there was a magic bullet.

Only Isumi was direct like that. Kuwabara liked him. In his twilight years, he had grown tired of the jostling for ambition, especially when people did it in such a clumsy way. "It'll blow over soon enough when people realize they don't have any evidence at all," he said to Shindou.

Shindou raised his eyebrows. "And you know this from your wide-ranging experience of being accused of unprofessional conduct?"

"Brat," Kuwabara said. "In Go, there is no single attack that takes the whole goban. Just as it is for life."

Shindou looked as though he was about to protest. Then he shook his head. "I'll hold you to that," he said, then played a hand that wiped out a quarter of Kuwabara's defenses.

-----------------------------

28: To name the sunrise in you

"You might as well come in," Touya said, none too graciously.

Waya was reminded that Touya was still harbouring a grudge against him. He said nothing, however, only nodded and entered the study of the Touya residence, seating himself at the table placed near the door rather than in front the goban placed in the centre of the room. He belatedly noticed the stack of Go Weekly and a few other publications on it, all showing the newest gossip about Shindou.

"He's taking a shower," Touya said. "He's going to take a while-"

"I'll wait," Waya said immediately.

That was not what Touya wanted to hear, judging from the quick frown he gave. "All right," Touya said. "Excuse me, I have some work to do," he said, going to the door.

It was clear that Touya did not want to entertain him. "Can we play a game first?" Waya asked on impulse, taking vengeful satisfaction in the way Touya frowned again. Besides, if he continued sitting at the table, he knew he would not be able to resist picking up Let's Go and reading what was on it.

"All right," Touya said. Maybe he didn't want Shindou to come in and find that Touya had been giving his best friend the cold shoulder. He walked over to the goban and sat down. Waya got up and sat opposite him, surprised at the quick capitulation. Maybe Touya was simply worn down by the enforced inactivity--he looked tired.

The growing rumours were most likely taking a toll--on him and Shindou alike.

If he had been his old self, Waya would have thought that it was cosmic justice. Yet Shindou had been keeping the secret about Sai for so long--and from his best friend too--that it seemed almost anti-climatic that he would be undone by his own actions. A secret of such magnitude seemed to call for an exposé. Complete with a teary confession, perhaps.

But that did not happen. Nor was it likely.

"I'll nigiri," Touya said, his hand already closing around a handful of stones in the go-ke.

Waya said, "Even." It was even, so he got to start, while Touya took the go-ke of white stones from him.

"Please give me your guidance," Touya said, formal and coldly polite.

"Please give me your guidance," Waya said, and started with a classic Shuusaku opening.

Touya responded with quick, practiced hands that indicated that he was used to Shuusaku's Go. (Waya was, too.)

Waya had studied the kifu of the second Meijin title game as soon as it was published. (Weekly Go was astonished that all copies of that issue sold out within two days, though in retrospect, they shouldn't have been.) That was the Go he recognised from his days playing Net Go, and studied ever since: it was swift, orderly and perfectly proportioned in every way. As for the way it had steadily and remorselessly trapped Black, leaving Black with no room for retaliation... 'well planned' was not a good enough description.

Waya's strategy was to read and plan ahead too--unlike some who played on intuition, like Kurata--but he was nowhere in Sai's ranks. Impulsive players--like Isumi's Le Ping--were his bugbear; Waya always found that his reflexes couldn't keep up. That was one reason he admired Sai so much.

Unlike him, Sai had always been particularly inspired. Especially when he played White, and the Go that appeared in Shindou's game was similarly skillful.

That was the part that puzzled Waya. Unlike the other rumour-mongers, Waya was certain that Shindou was in fact not Sai. The anguish in Shindou's voice as he told Waya not to ask about 'him' was unmistakable: it was the anguish of a person in mourning for someone irretrievably lost. But in that kifu, it was as though Sai had been playing, not Shindou.

It was so different from Shindou's usual Go that Waya thought, even without the rumours about Sai, that kifu would have raised at least few eyebrows.

The clink of stones wrenched his attention back to the goban. Waya blinked in belated dismay as Touya captured six of his stones from a modified ladder strategy. Yes, between Shindou and Touya, Waya could safely say that Touya's Go seemed more in line with Sai's. But the kifu showed a different side of Shindou, which confused Waya. Even if Shindou had known Sai--had studied from him, and had absorbed his Go so much so that he was able to wield it like a part of himself--it did not explain why Sai's Go had manifested itself so clearly in that game.

What was even more uncanny that it had happened again and again. Once could be explained as a freak accident. Maybe Shindou was publicly taunting all those who had been making the accusations. But for the past ten days, Waya had been visiting the Net Go website to find 'S.A.I.' making the rounds. This Sai played the same familiar Go, though with some differences: he never stayed long, and he chose opponents who were obviously amateurs--though he always won.

Some watchers of the 'new Sai games' accused this Sai of being an impostor on the discussion boards, a mere imitation of the original Sai. But subscribers of the 'Shindou-is-Sai' theory speculated that Shindou was merely trying to disguise his style. As for why Shindou had shown his true hand--so as to speak--after so many years, it was apparently because his accident and close shave with death had given him new appreciation for life, and he had therefore decided to stop hiding his inner Sai.

But didn't Shindou realize that doing so would open him up to accusations of unprofessional behaviour from the professional Go community? Oh well, Shindou must have realized that he couldn't hide any longer; challengers for his title were growing stronger each year. Just look at the amazing way Touya Akira played!

Then why hadn't Sai responded to questions posed on the Net Go website? That was because... There was an explanation for everything.

Waya had grown tired of easy solutions. Once he had thought that if only he knew the secret behind Sai, he would be able to understand how Sai became so strong. He remembered how Sai's progress had jumped in only a month. He had burned with the urge to know how that had happened. Only with that knowledge, he was sure, could his Go truly progress. It was why he had been nursing a fascination with Sai for so long.

That line of thought had derailed in the same instant he saw Shindou bleeding into the road, though he didn't realize it at first.

Watching Shindou climb back to health--no, it had started with knowing that Touya was keeping a tireless, hopeless vigil during those first weeks (the doctors had been frank about Shindou's chances). Knowing that Touya was persisting despite low odds had made him angry with himself, then ashamed.

Then Shindou had woken up. He had even forgiven Waya. In retaliation, Waya had gone on to do things that were unfair and uncalled for. Even as he whispered to one tabloid reporter after another, there had been the insistent voice at the back of his mind that this would not work: it would not make him feel better, nor would it exonerate him. Whatever wrongdoing Shindou was supposed to be guilty of, it did not cancel Waya's part in the accident.

Now it had all grown out of proportion. On impulse, he asked, "Shindou isn't the one playing as Sai on the internet, is he?"

Touya wasn't even rattled. He only played a hand that put two of Waya's corner stones in atari. "No," he said coldly, as though Waya was an idiot for even asking.

Waya looked at him with dislike. The arrogant jerk, always thinking that he was better than anyone else. "Then who is it?" he asked.

That made Touya hesitate. He sat back, and glanced towards the door, as though worried that Shindou was about to enter at any moment.

Waya raised his eyebrows.

Touya glared at him, though Waya had the impression that--for once--that hostility was not aimed at him. "Ask your friend Isumi," he said.

Isumi? Waya mouthed the name in confusion. "What do you mean-"

The door slid open. "Waya, I heard you were here!" Shindou said. He was wearing a yellow T-shirt (with '5' on it) with sweatpants, and he was beaming.

Waya stared, and it was not just from the shock of having Shindou enter so abruptly. He had seen from the picture in Go Weekly that Shindou had re-dyed his hair, but he was not prepared for the way it made Shindou look. Brightness, like Shindou's name, seemed to shine from within him. It was like watching the sun rise; too glaring to face with both eyes open. "Uh-" Waya said intelligently.

Shindou limped forward--sans walking stick now, it seemed--and sat down, his attention instantly caught by the game. "It's a close game," he remarked, "but it doesn't fit the expression on both your faces when I opened the door. Now!" he gave them a mock-stern look. "What were you talking about?"

Touya flushed bright red with guilt.

-----------------------------

29 [not written using theme]

Isumi watched as the rest of the equipment was set up. The technical staff glanced at them curiously as they shifted the tables and moved the wires discreetly out of sight (the latter were particularly unsightly on camera, they had been told).

Beside him, Le Ping fidgeted and shifted his weight from foot to foot. Unobtrusively, Isumi slid his hand into Le Ping's. He was unprepared for the way Le Ping tightened his grip, as though afraid that Isumi would disappear. "It'll be all right," he said softly.

Le Ping said nothing. He had been very quiet ever since the night Waya came barging into their apartment, demanding to know what Touya Akira was talking about. Isumi had to admit, Waya could be intimidating when he put his mind to it--and he was never that forceful unless it involved one of his friends (the punch at Mashiba was a case in point). Besides, it had been surreal to watch them facing each other: despite Le Ping's protests, he really did look a lot like Waya.

Yang Hai broke away from a last-minute discussion with some of the crew and walked over to them. He was wearing a suit--that was rare enough--and he looked nervous (which was even rarer). But then, Isumi could sympathise. This was Yang Hai's chance to show the world what he had been working on, and to prove that he hadn't been wasting his time all these years.

"Where's that Waya friend of yours?" was the first thing he asked. "I thought he'd be in the dressing room, but the crew said they hadn't seen him."

Isumi shook his head. "Maybe we can go and find-" he offered.

Yang Hai shook his head. "Better not. I don't want you wandering off, too. I need Isumi Honinbou to authenticate this."

"You won't be able to address everybody's doubts," Isumi said.

"Nah, but I will be able to silence at least some of the skeptics," Yang Hai said with a nod. "That's why I'm doing this in Tokyo, and not Beijing--all the better to fend off those who think I'm out to dupe them." He looked down and noticed their linked hands. "Good thought, Le Ping," he said, with the return of his cheerful leer. "You hold on to him for me. I have to go and re-check the-"

"Are Shindou and Touya here?" Isumi asked.

Yang Hai nodded. His chin lifted in the direction of the audience. "They came in ten minutes ago. You won't be able to see them, but they're already seated. 8-2 and 9-2." It took a split second for Isumi to realize that Yang Hai had envisaged the audience area as a giant goban. It struck him anew that Yang Hai was just as obsessed with Go as Isumi himself. It was just that Yang Hai's fascination with computers tended to obscure that fact. But of course he was: why else would he have spent so much time on making a program that could play high-level Go?

"I heard that you were looking for me?" Waya asked, entering backstage from a side door.

"Yes!" Yang Hai said. "The producer wants to go over the script with you again."

Waya groaned. "That stupid script! I don't know what he wants now. I've memorized all the questions." He tugged at his tie with annoyance. "All right," he said, and walked over to the mousy-looking man who had helped to set up this interview in such a short time.

Yang Hai looked amused as Waya walked over, smiled, and was instantly greeted like long-lost brother by the producer. It was Waya who had first mooted the idea of this show; he had even volunteered the services of a friend in the industry. "I'm going to look forward so much to showing him around Beijing. People will think the Japanese Go Institute gave me a replacement for Le Ping. This could be fun."

Without changing expression, Le Ping stamped on Yang Hai's foot.

"Ow!" Yang Hai exclaimed. "You really are a brat, you know. Don't you think it'll be fun?"

"No."

"Living in Japan has damaged your sense of humour," Yang Hai said. "Wait till I tell Zhao Shi." Isumi only hoped Yang Hai was not going to give the Chinese that cock-and-bull story about Japan's success in cloning humans. He had discovered long ago that Yang Hai could be surprisingly outrageous--yet whimsical--after a couple of beers. His Go, always excellent, became frighteningly incisive.

The producer and Waya came up to them. "We are going to start in five minutes," Yamada said.

Isumi felt the butterflies in his stomach flutter again.

***

Isumi had first learnt about the 'Sai program' when Yang Hai had arrived in Tokyo with Le Ping three years ago. It was around the same time that Isumi's own professional life had became very hectic--winning a title did that, he discovered--and he had not particularly questioned Yang Hai about the reason for choosing Sai's games to study. After all, Yang Hai usually stayed only for a week whenever he came to Tokyo.

Not being someone who played Go on the internet much--and especially not after Le Ping was around to play with him--what little he knew about Sai was all from Waya's comments and speculations about Sai's identity. He was not particularly interested in that.

Until Yang Hai asked him and Le Ping to test the program. Just simple things at first: seeing if the program 'remembered' to deploy the appropriate hands, or if the ko rules were being followed. Eventually, Yang Hai had asked him to test the program on its level of play. That was when Isumi had thought of Shindou...

"So this program can play Go?" Waya was asking, looking every inch the Go professional he was.

Yang Hai chuckled. "There are a lot of programs that can play Go, but they don't play it well. Besides, this is a special program, focusing on one person's Go. I call it the 'Sai' program." He went on to explain the reasons for choosing to use Sai's Go. Then it was Isumi's turn.

"...yes, Yang-sensei built the program from scratch, and I tested the beta version, as did Shindou-sensei."

There was the faintest murmur from the audience. Isumi took a deep breath. He could not make out anyone in the audience due to the darkness but he remembered the way Yang Hai had pin-pointed Shindou and Touya's seats, and said as seriously as he could to them. "As those who have studied Sai's kifu know, Sai's style was similar to Shuusaku's. And even though Shindou-sensei's Go style is quite different from Sai's, he is known to be a student of Shuusaku's Go too. That was why I suggested that he test the program as well."

The murmur was stronger now. Waya nodded diplomatically, though Isumi guessed he must be feeling less tense now. This was all going according to the script. Even as Waya had suggested how Yang Hai could publicise his achievement on television, he had been adamant about adding a few lines that would remove suspicion from Shindou.

"And what did Shindou-sensei say about the program?" Waya asked.

With an inner apology at Shindou, Isumi said, "He loved it."

"He did?" Waya prompted.

"Ah. Shindou-sensei said that he enjoyed the Shuusaku play very much. I'm sure you know that Shindou-sensei used to play Net Go a lot when he was younger, and he had seen Sai play before. So he was particularly excited about Yang-sensei's program."

Waya said, right on cue: "He must have spent a lot of time with it."

"Oh yes," Isumi said. "He played so much that Yang-sensei started to complain about obsessed Go pros in Japan."

Polite laughter. The audience was amused, good.

Isumi went on. "And I made fun of Shindou-sensei. I said that soon he'd start playing like Sai, too. And the very next day, in a casual game with Shindou-sensei, I discovered that this had happened."

This time the audience's murmur of appreciation sounded a bit chagrined--at least to Isumi's ears.

"How surprised Shindou-sensei must have been!" Waya said, and smoothly changed the subject. They had all agreed that to belabour the point would be too obvious. He turned to Yang Hai. "Yang-sensei, do you think that it's possible to create an unbeatable Go program, as has happened for chess?"

Yang Hai pretended to consider. "It's too early to say," he replied modestly. "Of course, I would say that with the 'Sai' program, we're off to a good start..."

***

The studio was emptied of its audience. Even Shindou and Touya had gone back. Waya, Isumi, Le Ping and Yang Hai stared at one another, while the workers tidied up around them. There was silence. Then Waya whooped and punctuated the air with a punch. "Yes!" he shouted.

-----------------------------

30: You are my country

The rumors had thinned down enough that the third title game was attended only by a dozen or so curious watchers, instead of the huge crowd that Shindou was half-expecting.

It went off to a rousing start. Touya was at the top of his form, and Shindou had been determined that he would be, too.

The 19x19 goban presented so many possibilities that it boggled the mind, but he was feeling his way around it. He knew this place like the back of his own hand--with the astonishing twists and traps that each hand could uncover--and yet it continued to present new possibilities. He played a stone, and watched Touya out of the corner of his eyes.

Touya's expression was abstract, his whole attention on the goban. He scarcely glanced up to look at Shindou, but every hand was an intimate response to Shindou's Go.

Shindou flexed his left arm silently. From the frightening weakness in it months ago, it was gradually getting stronger.

Yes, it was good to be alive. Sai had been unable to play because he had no body, and needed Shindou to place stones for him. Despite the pain, Shindou was glad that he could place his own stones. The search for the Hand of God would continue.

The goban was his territory.

-----------------------------

31 [no theme for this day]

There was a shift of motion in front as Shindou sat down opposite him. Touya paused to wait for him settle down, but otherwise said nothing, letting his attention remain on the game. "So-" Shindou said, "do you think you will be able to forgive Waya one day?"

Touya looked up at that, wishing that he had been alert enough to hide his instinctive reaction, which was revulsion.

Shindou smiled, though his expression looked fixed.

"Would you feel better if I said yes?" Touya asked.

"Only if you meant it."

Touya repressed a sigh. He was not as forgiving as Shindou. He had never been one to forget easily, either--witness his adolescent obsession with Shindou, all over a single game. All right, two, but he had always counted that first one as the most important one.

"Just think of it as helping to improve Waya's karma," Shindou said, with a nod at the game. "He can't win with you thinking all these negative thoughts!"

"He won't make it," Touya said with a trace of satisfaction. "Kadowaki has the corner." It was the last game to decide the final challenger for the Ouza title. It was his title, but Touya wasn't sure how he felt about it yet. If Kadowaki won this game, of course, it meant that Touya would not have to see Waya for the duration of the Ouza title games. But if Waya won, Touya could have the satisfaction of beating him over and over again: three, to be precise--the Ouza title games numbered five.

"Tou-ya."

"It's the truth," Touya said. Shindou had been persuaded to resign from the league games for the Ouza title--defending one title was tiring enough. He had retained his ranking in the league, though, and would be taking part next year. Touya was looking forward to it. "Besides," he added as Waya played another hand, "I'm sure my negative thoughts are nothing to Kadowaki's."

Shindou gave a wry grin. "He does look like he's about bite off Waya's head and spit on him, huh? That was a good move," he said, taking a go-ke from Touya to move a black stone onto the goban. The viewing room was empty except for them; most of the other watchers preferred the new viewing room, which had a large-screen television.

"But still not good enough." As he expected, Kadowaki was able to rein in his anger to counter Waya's newest hand. "He'll reverse that invasion within five hands."

Shindou gave him a slit-eyed grin. "Oh, you know his Go so well? When did that happen?"

"I studied his Go, of course, in anticipation of his win," Touya said primly

"And Waya's too?" Shindou asked.

Touya shrugged. "Yes. Though I've seen your games with him often enough, Shindou." He resented the implication that he would let his dislike of Waya stop him from studying that person's Go. That would be unfair and disrespectful.

Shindou gave him a look. "Good," he said. He nodded to the goban, muttering, "-not beyond hope, after all-"

"Excuse me?"

"Uh, nothing. You've heard about Ochi's wedding, huh?" Shindou said quickly, in a blatant attempt to change the subject.

Touya had indeed taken note of one of the many pieces of news that served to distract attention from the (now 'unveiled' mystery of) Sai, if only to count them silently as stepping stones away from the hurtful rumours. He nodded nonchalantly.

"So much for being jilted at the altar twice. Of all the people to elope, I would have never guessed Ochi."

Touya agreed with the sentiment, and repressed from his memory the anonymous asides in Go-orgeous (they were still monitoring tabloids--surely signs of shared paranoid--for mentions of Sai) about how Ochi 'couldn't let this one get away', as though Ochi's fiancée were some species of animal prone to making its way for the hills unless physically restrained. She had seemed genuinely fond of Ochi when Ochi introduced them at the Go Institute.

"Honeymoon in the Maldives, though," Shindou went on, his eyes lighting up. "On the one hand, it's interesting to imagine Ochi wearing a colourful shirt and shorts and sitting under an umbrella with a coconut drink. On the other hand-" he mock-shuddered. "It boggles the mind."

"They'll be back in another week." Ever mindful of his commitments, Ochi's (belated) notice to the Go Institute had stated how long he'd be away.

"Yeah, for the Japan Cup." Shindou was going to take part in that, despite Touya's concerns. The revamped Japan Cup was a five-day tournament, open to professional and amateurs alike, and with two games each day, it was gruelling even for the energetic, but for- "I'll be fine," Shindou said, correctly interpreting Touya's expression at the reminder of the next week. They had only been arguing about it for the last four days, after all. "Honestly, if I sit everything out, I'm going to lose my edge."

Touya stifled his instinctive objection to that. Shindou could never lose his edge not even if he stopped playing for months, as he had done so before. But if he couldn't stop Shindou, he could at least ask for a limit. "Then I ask that you resign if it gets too much instead of forcing yourself on."

Shindou made a face. "I'll be fine," he insisted. "But I agree."

"Thank you."

"Besides, what are the odds that we'll end up playing each other again this year?" Shindou said. "You might get knocked out before we get to the final game."

"Speak for yourself," Touya said, his competitive ire immediately roused.

"Me? I've been on a roll," Shindou smirked. "I defended my title, after all," he pointed out to Touya.

That still rankled. Their fifth game was a close one--Touya had not been able to see how skillfully Shindou planned that last series of attacks, which had squeaked enough territory for him to win--and it had taken a full day afterwards before Touya could unravel Shindou's strategy. Shindou's inventiveness was why his Go remained so surprising even after all these years, and the enforced patience he had developed since accident only seemed to give him new resources for convoluted planning.

"That means you're hardly going to lose your edge," Touya pointed out, thinking that it would be self-defeating to give Shindou ammunition by expressing frustration with that title game. Shindou was insufferable enough as it was. "But I won't say anything more about it." He busied himself re-playing the last few hands of Waya and Kadowaki's game, dipping without comment into the go-ke in front of Shindou.

Shindou let him, content to watch the game on the television instead. From time to time he made a comment about the game, which Touya answered. "I won't ask you to forgive Waya," he said,clearly unable to stop pursuing the topic. "You still blame him for the accident-"

"Not just that," Touya said, with a look at him.

"-and rumours about Sai and me." Shindou's expression sobered.

Touya felt a spike of triumph at that. Until Waya had confessed, Shindou had refused to believe that Waya had really been the one spreading the rumours. He thought it was interesting that Shindou took far longer to forgive Yang Hai and Isumi, but once he did, he put everything behind him and now followed the progress of the 'Sai' project with amusement. For Waya, though, Shindou's forgiveness might have been immediate, but Shindou seemed unable to forget that it had happened.

"Waya and I have never been friends, Shindou," Touya said, not sure why he was being so frank--a wish to distract Shindou from his thoughts, perhaps--"I think you know that. We tried to get along for your sake, and now, on top of everything, it's too late for us to start. We are actually more comfortable being-"

"Hostile?" Shindou interrupted.

"Polite," Touya said repressively. "All the hostility's on his side," he pointed out, ignoring Shindou's snort. "But you, Shindou--can you forgive him?"

Shindou bit his lip at that. "I said-"

"I know what you said. I was there, remember?" Touya asked, conveniently forgetting that he had refused to leave them alone together until he was sure Waya was not going to hurt Shindou--or vice versa. "Your mind says you forgive," he put down Waya's latest hand, with a glance at the television screen, "but your heart says something else." He played Kadowaki's counter attack, noting in passing that the game had turned into a tug-of-war for territory between the two of them.

Shindou gave a yelp as he finally noticed the movements on the goban. "What are the two of them doing?" he asked. "Reverso? Chinese checkers?"

"It's not as dire as that, Shindou," Touya said.

"But it-it's-"

"They'll break out of it soon. Stop avoiding the topic."

Resting his arms on the table, Shindou bent down until his face was inches from the surface. "As though it wasn't bad enough that he had to keep asking about Sai that night," he said, referring to the night of the accident, "then he let people think that I am Sai--something that he doesn't even believe!" He raised his head to look at Touya, his expression lost. "I don't understand, Touya."

"Then you have to ask him--not just try to push it behind you like that!" Touya said, his eyes on the game. Something about the interplay of hands between Waya and Kadowaki made him think--the way each tried to push the other to do what was really needed. "That's why you asked me if I could forgive Waya, isn't it?" He suddenly realized what it was, and went on more confidently, his voice rising. "You wanted to know how. Shindou, you conniving-"

"Hey!"

"-ass," Touya finished. "And here I thought you were genuinely concerned about Waya and me."

Never one to stand behind excuses even when his plans were unexpectedly revealed, Shindou said, "Sorry. I knew it was a lost cause between him and you."

"At least you got that right." Touya thought for a second, then said, " 'A friendship is like a Chinese vase. Once it is broken, it can be mended, but it will never be the same again'."

Shindou clutched his head. "Touya, that's not helping. I said I'm sorry! Stop quoting old people at me!"

"If you don't want to drag it up again, then give it time," Touya said. "Time will tell if your friendship is a Chinese vase."

Shindou muttered something about 'plastic flowers' but muttered, "Yeah." After a while he said, "Waya thought that Sai was on the verge of finding the Hand of God."

Touya raised his eyebrows for a second. "Really?"

"I never told him that Sai had said that to find the Hand of God, you need an opponent who is looking for it too."

"My father."

"Yeah."

Touya placed more stones. He could see Kadowaki's winning pattern emerge now, and let his fantasy of trouncing Waya fade away. Oh well, it was probably best that Waya and Shindou didn't see each other so often for a few more months.

Opposite him, Shindou was a mixture of cautious optimism and resignation. Waya would never knew how lucky he was not to be blamed for the accident, but the whole matter of the rumours about Sai would need more time.

"I've always thought that if the Hand of God was meant for me to find, it would be in a game with you," Touya said, to distract him.

Shindou's cheeks turned pink at that. He spluttered for a few seconds, recovered, and said, "I think it means something that this is the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."

"R-romantic?" Touya echoed. "You're feeble-minded. This is not about romance. It's about-oh." He couldn't help the blush, too.

On television, Waya resigned to Kadowaki.

(END)

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