Title: Finding Sai
Author: Luce Red
Series: Hikaru no Go
Disclaimer: Characters are the creation of Obata and Hotta.
Type/Notes: General fic.
Summary: Lost and found are the themes of Hikaru's life.

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May 5, Children's Day

Touya Kouyo looked at the boy who had been referred to as Sai. The blond hair was familiar, but everything else was different: the plain clothes, the bandages, and the dulled, slumped posture. The expression on his face was achingly soft, devoid of any recognition. His eyes looked lost. Touya Kouyo had seen that look in his own eyes when his own father died.

“Boy…” Nagai Taro, the man who had met him at the station, said. “This is the person I was telling you about.”

He watched as the boy got to his feet. “Are you Sai?” the boy asked, and the thread of hope made his voice sound much younger.

“No, I’m not Sai,” he said, controlling his voice with effort. He had not imagined that he would be using a tone that he had used only with his son—when he was five.

The boy looked down. “I’m looking for Sai,” he said. “He disappeared… I lost him, and I’m looking for him.”

Not knowing what to say, he replied, “I’m looking for Sai too, Shindou Hikaru.”

The boy’s head rose at that. “He used to call me Hikaru…” he said, and Touya Kouyo watched as his expression hardened with concentration.

“Sensei, you know who he is?” Nagai interrupted at that juncture.

He nodded. “He’s Shindou Hikaru, 2-dan, and he knows my son, Akira.”

“Akira…” Shindou said softly, and closed his eyes, frowning.

“He was quite worried when he realized you hadn’t talked to your parents for a week, Shindou-kun.”

“My parents…” Shindou opened his eyes briefly, then sat down suddenly, rubbing at his temples.

Touya Kouyo watched the boy he had thought was Sai. “Are you all right, Shindou-kun?” he asked.

“Sai…” the boy murmured. “I was looking for him, but he’s gone. I’ve lost him…” he suddenly looked up, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’ve lost him again!”

Touya Kouyo had searched for Sai, in his own way. He had always assumed that Sai was out there, waiting to play another game with him. Somehow, hearing Shindou Hikaru’s despairing tone, he abruptly felt that his quest would only end in vain. There was no more Sai.

May 4, "Between Day"

Touya Akira woke up when it was nearly dawn, as a few things come together abruptly in his mind.

"Sai..." he murmured, sitting up in bed. He looked around, his eyes adapting perfectly to the darkness of his room, before he pushed the sheets away from him, shivering a little at the cold night air. There was something about the game... he frowned to himself, trying to remember what it was he had dreamt.

Nothing came; but it was there. Akira got out of bed and stood for a moment in the dark, trying to make sense of his thoughts. On another night much like this, he had caught his father sitting in front of the Go board, one stone placed on it. He had thought at first that his father was reconstructing a game from memory, but the other go-ke was on arranged on the opposite side of the board; his father was waiting for a reply from a seemingly non-existent opponent.

He recognized the position of the stone now. It was the first hand of the game his father played against Sai.

Unlike him, his father had always been more interested in Shindou Hikaru, but Akira reasoned, only because his father had never actually played Sai, until that NetGo game. After the NetGo game, though, he could sense a difference in the way his father played, a renewed search for the Hand of God. It was then that his father retired and started to play around the world. It was nearly unthinkable to realize that his father, Touya Meijin, was searching for Sai, just like the hundreds of people who had played NetGo with Sai, but Akira could understand the fascination.

Hadn't his led him to Shindou?

Unerringly, he made his way to the other end of the room, where a Go-board had been set up. By feel alone, he began to put the stones on the board, the lukewarm feel of the white clamshell stones alternating with the smooth, slightly larger, black shale stones, letting the familiar rhythm calm him. They were on the last day of their trip; tomorrow, Akira and his mother would be making their way home. His father had already left the day before, after receiving a phone call from an acquaintance. Akira suspected that he had obtained some news or rumour of Sai--there was little else that would rattle his father these days.

He knew it was no use telling his father that it was impossible to find Sai, anyway. Whatever secrets Shindou was keeping about Sai, one thing was clear: Sai had left.

There was a soft knock at the door, startling him from his thoughts, before it swung open slowly.

His mother stood in the doorway, light from the next room flooding into his. "I heard a noise," his mother began, then asked, in a louder voice, "Akira-san, why are you playing Go in the dark?"

She turned on the lights, and from sheer habit both of them looked down at the Go board first. Though his mother only had a cursory interest in Go, she had picked up the habit after living with two Go-obsessed men.

Akira found himself staring at the first game he had ever played with Shindou Hikaru.

***

It had been a magnificent game. Though he was not, by habit, someone who dwelt overly on the past, Touya Kouyo could not help remembering the presence that was nearly visible, even in a NetGo game. Something had told him that it would be the game of a lifetime, the greatest challenge of his life a Go player. He had thrown himself into the challenge in that game with Sai, and though he had lost, it had called up a new burst of inspiration in him.

Some weeks after his retirement, he had heard of speculations among the younger pros of how a single changed hand near the end could have turned the game around for him, and it didn't surprise him in the least to learn that the idea had emerged from Shindou Hikaru. For a young pro who was only the same age as his own son, Shindou had the ability to project a forceful presence that was comparable to what he had sensed from Sai. It wasn't just at the Beginner Dan game that he'd sensed it, the presence that told of confidence and prowess honed from years of playing thousands of games, but at the other games he had seen Shindou play since. It wasn't as strong, but something told him: this was from Sai.

And so he played, and he searched. As the train rumbled its way towards his destination, Touya Kouyo wondered about the phone call from an old student. Masui Shinji had given up his ambition to become pro when he was thirty and too old to take the Pro Exam, but he retained a fervent interest in Go. He continued to keep in touch even after moving out of Tokyo, and knew about Kouyo's interest in Sai.

Even as he made arrangements to return from his trip two days early, Touya Kouyo knew that Masui's information could prove to be fruitless. There had been a few wild goose chases since he started to try finding Sai; it was as if the player had simply disappeared from the human realm. Still, he trusted Masui's word. If he said he had found Sai, then it was worth going to see for himself.

"Touya-sensei!" The man holding the placard with the words "Touya Kouyo" on it, stared, and as if realizing what he had been doing, bowed hastily. "It's an honour to meet you for the first time, Sensei!" he said. "My name is Nagai Taro."

"Good evening. You're Masui-san's friend?" he said. "I'm pleased to meet you. Thank you for coming to meet me."

The other man bowed again. "It's my pleasure. Please, my car's this way. I have booked a hotel room for you, it's quite near."

Masui apologized the poor state of his car, though it looked like new. "Around here, we're pretty casual," he said with a deprecating air. "It's a small town--we only have two schools, and one hospital!"

"Masui said that the person I was looking for is in hospital," he said.

"Yeah," Masui said, as they drove away from the station. "He's mostly all right, though, physically-speaking. That was a relief to Dr. Ishida, you know. You can only see him only tomorrow, though. It's late now, the doctor wants him to have plenty of rest. He's just a boy, really..."

He narrowed his eyes. "A boy?" he asked. He, too, had heard the speculations from the insei that Sai could be a child, but he felt that Sai's style of playing was just too advanced to be a child's.

Nagai glanced at him. "Masui-san didn't tell you?" he asked. "He's just a boy. About fifteen years old, I think. From Tokyo... you can tell by the way he talks."

***

He moved the stones expertly. He remembered this feeling of playing Go on a computer screen, knowing on one hand he was pointing and clicking with a mouse in his right hand, yet feeling as though he was touching cold, hard stones between his fingertips. The game he saw on the computer screen seemed to extend beyond its two dimensional limitations, to transform into an actual Go board. Even the little beeps from each confirmed hand seemed to change into the "pachi!" of actual Go stones being slapped down. Except that he couldn't see his opponent.

The boy shrugged. Even that feeling of mystery was familiar; it didn't matter what the other opponent looked like, or what country he was from--only the Go was important. So far the ones he'd been playing weren't very strong; he was defeating them with ease. But he could remember NetGo being important. He had played the game of his life on NetGo, he knew. He could remember the gravity with which he approached that last game of NetGo, how seriously he took it, and how excited he had felt.

His opponent had taken the game just as seriously in that last game; he had felt honoured by that. Part of him was dismayed at the threat of retirement from the other person, but the rest of him was more concerned about playing with the only other person who was, like him, reaching for the Hand of God.

There was such solemnity in that last game; his opponent was everything he had expected. Strong when he needed to be, aggressive when the time was right, and careful when traps were springing up on all sides. He played with equal forcefulness, never letting go of a single disadvantage, plotting aggressively, setting up traps. Much like the time he had taken on a 15-komi handicap, when he took unimaginable risks...

"Sai..." the boy gasped, his fingers slipping from the mouse, suddenly feeling breath stop in his chest.

He sat frozen for a long while, only coming to his senses when a louder beep signified his opponent's resignation. Swallowing painfully through a suddenly dry throat, he replaced his hand on the mouse and shakily moved the cursor to accept the other's pronouncement. He glanced at his username on the corner of the screen. There it was: S-A-I. Gasping, he reached out to switch the computer off.

"There were two games..." he said to himself. "One with a handicap... 15 komi... and one without. One played in person, one on the internet..." He rubbed the side of his head. "It was Sai... Sai played those games, not me!"

May 3, Constitution Day

“Did any Go players gone missing?” Kadowaki repeated into the phone. “What are you talking about, Kurimoto?”

Kurimoto Ryuji sounded embarrassed. “I was just wondering, you know, because this kid I met, at the hospital I mean, he’s playing Go like a pro. And you’re a pro, so…”

Kadowaki had to put a hand over his phone to muffle his laughter. “Kurimoto, not everyone who plays like a pro is a pro, you know. There’re plenty of talented amateurs out there. Just like you’d have been if you didn’t decide to become a doctor.”

“But this kid, he’s really something. And the way he talks about Go, it’s like he’s been playing for a thousand years.” Kurimoto sounded serious. Then again, Kurimoto was always serious, from the time they first met in university.

“A thousand years, huh?” Kadowaki chuckled. “I’m afraid I don’t know anyone like that. Seriously, though. I haven’t heard about any pro who has gone missing, unless you count Touya Meijin, who has disappeared to some city in China… or was it America? To find some new players, I guess. Anyway, Kurimoto, it’s Golden Week, and many pros go on holiday. Last I heard, even Shindou Hikaru was going on holiday.”

“Shindou Hikaru… that’s the kid that defeated you when you were about to go for the pro exam that year, wasn’t it?” Kurimoto asked. “You mention him a lot.”

“I do not,” Kadowaki said, then shook his head. “I’m sorry I can’t help you, but I don’t really think there’re any pros who would disappear for no good reason. Unless you count Shindou Hikaru, again.”

A sigh from the other end. “I guess so. It was a wild shot, anyway. Thanks, Kadowaki-san. Good luck for your next game.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Goodbye.”

***

Kurimoto put down the phone, then gave a start. The boy was standing at his doorway.

“Sorry,” the boy said. “I knocked, but you didn’t hear me.”

“It’s all right,” he said. “I said I would take you to a Go salon, didn’t I?” He stood up and began to shed his white coat. “Have you been playing NetGo all morning?”

The boy shook his head, the blond hair fluttering just a bit wildly at the motion. Looking at that shock of hair, Kurimoto reflected that it had been, perhaps, too much to hope that the boy really was a pro. He just couldn’t imagine any pro choosing to sport hair like that. In all the Go games he had watched, the players had all dressed soberly and conservatively, with never a hair out of place. Even the young pros didn’t have hair like a pop idol.

The boy was staring at him again, and Kurimoto realized that his thoughts had drifted again. “Sorry, I was thinking of something else. Let’s go.”

The boy hesitated. “Is it really all right to leave the hospital?” he asked.

Kurimoto smiled to reassure him. “Of course it is! I’m your doctor, aren’t I? It’s all right, I’ll make sure the nurses don’t scold you. Let’s go, Sai-san.”

***

Dake Hajime had been a hustler since his wife divorced him. He hung around mahjong, shougi and Go parlours, making a living by gambling on the games he played. Being smart enough to gauge the skill levels of other players meant that Dake never actually made a loss, or played a losing game. Occasionally he was called in to catch a troublemaker or a cheater, and Dake would be happy to show off his expertise. With his long years of experience, he had always managed to teach the miscreant a lesson. The tables had turned on him once, and only once.

Perhaps that was why he could remain composed as he stared at the boy who was cheerily disposing of his opponents, while the other patrons in the Go salon made "ooh" and "ahh" sounds at each hand. Seeing an acquaintance standing at the edge of the crowd, he made his way over.

"Kurimoto, who's the kid?" he whispered, wanting to know why the boy was here. Didn't the boy live in Tokyo? Dake racked his brains but couldn't recall the boy's name.

Kurimoto Mitsuo took the cigarette from between his lips and expelled a plume of smoke, his eyes going to him. "Oh, it's you, Dake," he said in greeting. "Dunno who the kid is. My nephew at the hospital brought him over this morning. Kid plays like a pro."

It was only then that Dake noticed the slightly ill-fitting clothes the boy was wearing, and a small bandage on his forehead, nearly covered by the blond hair. "Your nephew?" he asked.

"Yeah. Works at the hospital, with some neurology department. You know, doctors who treat..." Kurimoto made a small circular motion at his temple with a finger.

Somehow, Dake didn't think that the boy was mentally ill. Of course, there had been that game he played...

"How strong are you?" he had asked then, his tone as derisive as he could make it.

"Er... As strong as Honinbou Shuusaku, I guess."

"He’s been in hospital for the last few days," Kurimoto went on, putting the cigarette back between his lips. "Caused a lot of trouble for the hospital: they don't know what to do with him."

Dake watched as one of the boy's opponents resigned, to a loud "ooh" from the watchers. The boy was now only playing with three remaining patrons. "So when you say you don't know who he is," he said, "you mean, no one knows who he is."

Kurimoto blew a smoke ring, glancing at him in surprise. "You're pretty quick on the uptake, aren't you?" he remarked, though not in an insulting way. "Yeah. Ryuji-kun, that's my nephew, says the kid has temporary amnesia.”

“Amnesia?”

“Or maybe the kid’s nuts. He calls himself Sai, but he’s claiming all sorts of outrageous things. He can’t keep his mouth shut about many things. Like he used to be a ghost. Still, apparently the one thing the kid does remember is that he plays Go, and he used to play in a Go salon, so Ryuji-kun brought him here to see if it would jolt his memory." Kurimoto shrugged. "So far, he's been trouncing my customers."

"He's from Tokyo," Dake said.

Kurimoto's eyebrows rose. "You know who he is?" he asked.

Dake shook his head. "I think it's him, but it's been a few years. Before you ask, I don't really know who he is. I played with him in Tokyo once, that's all."

"You played with him?" Kurimoto asked, glancing from him to the boy. No doubt he was remembering the kinds of establishments Dake frequented--small, dark and not always reputable. "What was he doing in those places?" he asked bluntly.

A few of the watchers raised their head at Kurimoto's outburst, but the boy, Dake noticed, didn't even blink.

Kurimoto motioned towards the back of the parlour, and they made their way there to talk. "What was he doing there?" he asked.

"He came with a classmate. A friend, I think. They wore the same school uniform, anyway," Dake said, and sketched the events as far as he could remember.

"You lost ten thousand to that kid?" Kurimoto said, when he was done.

Dake shrugged. "He was amazing," he said blandly. For some reason, he never felt ashamed about losing to that boy. Perhaps it was misplaced guilt for putting down Shuusaku, and then getting defeated by a boy who played solely Shuusaku's Go. "Listen," he said to Kurimoto, remembering, "that boy was really something. He told me he was as strong as Honinbou Shuusaku."

"Honinbou Shuusaku?" Kurimoto turned to glance at the boy, his eyes narrowing as yet another opponent resigned. "That's a curious thing to say."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Kurimoto said, taking a long drag on his cigarette, "that's what he's been telling everyone. That he used to be Honinbou Shuusaku."

May 2, nothing

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to visit America with your parents? It's Golden Week, after all."

Ochi Kosuke, 3-dan, shook his head briefly at his grandfather. "No, I prefer to stay in Japan. After all, I have study groups to go to."

His grandfather shrugged. "Do what you like, " he said. "Your parents are so busy with their business, they hardly spend two weeks in Japan at a time. I'm just glad you still have the time to play Go with your grandfather, even though you're busy preparing for your tournament games."

"I told you," Ochi said, as he reached up to push his glasses further up his nose, "I don't mind playing Go with you, Grandfather. It's good to have a change of pace now and then."

And he meant it. Though many people thought of Ochi as unfriendly, unapproachable and prone to smugness about his Go skills, he was surprisingly free of the snobbishness about Go that certain players cultivated, and he treated everyone who played Go seriously, whether they were amateurs or professionals.

"Well, then," his grandfather said, relieved. "Let's play this evening, when you get back from your study group," he said.

"Of course, Grandfather."

"Are you going to Touya Meijin's study group today?"

Ochi's eyes narrowed. "It's not Touya Meijin's group," he corrected his grandfather. "It's Saki-san's study group."

"But Saki-sensei goes to Touya Meijin's group..." Unaware of his grandson's look of irritation, the older Ochi thought out loud. "But since Touya-sensei retired, his study group has been mainly held by Ogata-sensei and Saki-sensei. But does Touya 4-dan attend the study groups?" he asked. Touya Akira had been Ochi's teacher once, in preparation for the pro exams, but there seemed to be some disagreement between them.

"I'm not going to the same study group as Touya," Ochi stated, his face set. He knew that his grandfather hoped that if he and Touya were in the same study group, whatever friction between them could be resolved. He had always said that it was good to cultivate good relationships with Touya Meijin's students. "He's out of the country with Touya Meijin, anyway," he said.

"You're still upset with him over the pro exams?" his grandfather asked, shaking his head. "Never mind. That's your own affair. Go for your study group, then. You don't want to be late."

Ochi nodded once. "Goodbye, Grandfather," he said before he left the room.

Ochi frowned on the journey to his study group. He still remembered his and Shindou's confrontation before their game at the pro exams. He still remembered Shindou asking him if Touya had said anything about him. Stung at the challenge Shindou presented, he had unwittingly revealed the extent of Touya's preoccupation with Shindou. He knew his Go had improved greatly after Touya's lessons, but he was still outraged at Touya's unspoken assumption that he would not defeat Shindou.

"You have to start practising with Shuusaku's games..."

"You shouldn't underestimate Shindou..."

"Two years ago, he defeated me!"

At that time, Ochi had sat at the Go board then and thought with fierce triumph that Touya Akira was behind him--and there was no one behind Shindou Hikaru. No one at all...

***

"You play a bit strangely," Kurimoto commented. "Some of those moves are a bit old," he said, collecting his stones. They were playing in the ward, and some of the nurses were glancing at them, but Kurimoto ignored them.

The boy shrugged, though he was grinning. "It just seems natural," he offered. "Sorry I can't play very well," he said, "I think the medication is making it difficult to think."

"No, you play very well," Kurimoto said. "Like a pro, actually. Are you sure you aren't a pro?"

The boy burst out laughing. "Are you kidding? If I were a pro, I'd definitely go for a title or two!" he said. "I'd love to be Meijin!" he nodded to himself.

"Meijin?" Kurimoto joked. "That's a difficult title to get. It's hard to fill Touya Kouyo's shoes. Why not the Honinbou title? It's the oldest, and the most prestigious."

The boy laughed. "Oh, I'd love to get that too!" he exclaimed loudly, causing some of the nurses to frown at them. "Get that title away from the tricky old man... And there's Touya Kouyo... oh, yes, he's retired, right?"

Inwardly Kurimoto shook his head at the idea of a mere boy referring to Kuwabara Honinbou as 'tricky old man', but nodded. "Yes, Touya Meijin retired. It was a big shock."

"Meijin... and Kisei... it has the most prize money..." the boy mused, putting his own stones back in the go-ke. "Sounds like the high life, Dr. Kurimoto!"

Kurimoto laughed, dismissing the idea of the boy as a pro from his mind. Few pros would ever claim that they were interested in a title for the prize money. "But maybe you used to learn from someone who like to use the older moves, right?" he commented, thinking of the game he had narrowly lost.

The boy shook his head, a slight frown on his face. "Don't remember..." he said, waving a hand.

"Don't worry about it for now," he reassured the young patient. "I've always liked the older games better, though," he said, trying to make conversation more relaxing. "Shuusaku's games, for example..." He instantly saw the boy's face change at the name. "What is it?" he asked.

"Honinbou Shuusaku, right?" the boy said, his tone tentative for the first time that morning.

"That's right. One of the best players of his time, many say," Kurimoto said, trying not to frown. "What's wrong?"

The boy rubbed the back of his head. "Ha ha, I had the weirdest dream last night..." he said, looking as though he was forcing himself to smile. "I thought I was Honinbou Shuusaku..." Seeing Kurimoto's expression, he raised his hands in denial. "It was just a dream! I was thinking about Go..."

"Yes?"

"I thought... this sounds crazy, ha ha... I thought I was Honinbou Shuusaku in a past life."

Before Kurimoto could react, the boy laughed again, loudly, as though trying to dismiss the thought. His laughter sounded fake. Kurimoto opened his mouth to say something, but a shadow fell over the both of them.

He could hear the boy gulp audibly as the head nurse, Iida Sakura, glared down at the two of them. Iida was forty years old, and stood at five feet five inches in her sensible shoes, but had a face that could quell a rampaging tiger.

"Excuse me," she addressed the two of them blandly, while the boy twitched. "The two of you are disturbing the other patients. Please stop playing. Dr. Kurimoto, Dr. Ishida would like to see you."

"Er, of course," he answered. She must have complained to Ishida, Kurimoto thought. "Er, did any patient call for me?" he asked, unable to keep the hopeful note from his voice.

"No, no one."

***

"This is..." The boy's eyes widened as he looked around the brightly-lit recreation room, at the pairs of elderly folks seated at the plain white tables. He turned to his companion. "Doctor?"

"Actually, Go is supposed to be a good form of therapy for Alzheimer's patients and those who have memory problems," Kurimoto told him. "It's still early to tell, but we're monitoring our patients' progress. Most of those here are outpatients, by the way." He motioned the boy towards a pair who were playing. "It's not exactly relevant in your case, but Masui-san told Dr. Ishida that you knew how to play NetGo, and when I spoke to him just now, he said it'd be all right for you to try and see if playing actual Go would help you to remember something. Perhaps tomorrow, we can go to the Go salon my uncle owns."

The boy nodded. Come to think of it, Masui had quite the strange reaction to the boy's attempt at playing NetGo yesterday--he had acted as he had seen a ghost, actually, though luckily he'd managed not to alarm the boy--he had even muttered about calling up his old teacher in Tokyo, and his Go buddy, Nagai. It was a pity Masui had to leave on an urgent business trip before Kurimoto could get further details from him.

One good thing had come out of the boy playing NetGo, anyway--Kurimoto had let the boy borrow his old laptop for that--he now claimed that he had remembered his name, at least. Privately, Kurimoto wondered if it was really his name, or just a name for someone the boy knew. After all, he had not seen many patients who woke from a nightmare exclaiming a name, and later introducing himself by it. 'Sai' just didn't seem to suit the boy.

They stood closer to watch a game that was in progress; Kurimoto was pleased to see the light of interest in the boy's eyes, and a smile appearing on his face. Watanabe and Itou had taken to Go like ducks to water since Masui first taught them, and were evenly matched, for the most part. Though Kurimoto played Go infrequently now, he could still see that both players were engaged in a deadlock on the upper left corner.

Watanabe, who had thinning white hair and was trying to rid himself of a cigarette habit, slapped down a black stone.

Itou, whose small build made him look like a child, considered, and countered with a diagonal hand to his hand.

Beside Kurimoto, the boy drew breath.

Watanabe looked unperturbed and put down a black stone on 1-3.

"Aha! You should have moved it one space up!"

Kurimoto turned his head to look at the boy, who had clapped both hands over his mouth, looking horrified.

"What?" Watanabe exclaimed.

"S-sorry!" the boy spluttered. "I shouldn't have interrupted..."

"You nosy punk!" Itou said. "Dr. Kurimoto, this boy is being a nuisance!" he complained.

"What's a kid doing here, anyway?" Watanabe asked, frowning as he contemplated the Go board. "Let's see, if I had played 1-2... and then over here... I could have killed your stones!" he said to Itou. He grinned at the boy. "Kid, come and sit over here," he patted the empty chair nearest to the boy. "You can help me defeat this stubborn old man here."

"Who are you calling old?"

Kurimoto looked at the boy, who was looking paler than he had a few moments ago. "Sai-san, are you all right?"

"I... " Without warning, the boy sat down heavily on the chair. "I think I remember something..."

Kurimoto laid a hand lightly on the boy's shoulder. "Take your time," he said in the calmest voice he could project. "What do you remember? Breathe," he reminded him.

The boy breathed--the intake of air was shaky, as though the boy was struggling to control himself--and released the same breath not two seconds later. "Slowly," Kurimoto advised, knowing that he should guide the boy to a private spot away from the interested stares of Watanabe and Itou. "Think carefully," he said. "What do you remember?"

"I remember..." the boy closed his eyes. "I'd said the exact same thing before. Someone told me..." he opened his eyes, and his fingers went up to rub the spot his head. "Someone said 1-2 was the crux of the game... someone..." All of a sudden, he stood up, and whirled around, as though expecting to find someone standing behind him. Bewildered, he turned around again, his face falling as he took in the frowns on their faces. He turned around once more, his head turning right and left, looking around the recreation room, at the various other patients who were now staring unabashedly at the commotion at their table. He seemed to be searching for someone, or something--Kurimoto made a mental note to check with the police again to see if there were any indications that the boy had been with a friend, or a companion, of some sort--and his face grew puzzled.

"There's no one..." the boy murmured finally.

"No one?" Kurimoto asked. "Who are you talking about?"

"There's supposed to be..." the boy gestured fruitlessly, his eyes flickering from side to side in a rapid fashion. "Someone... someone behind me. There's supposed to be..." His arms fell hopelessly by his sides. "There's supposed to be..." he repeated, his voice distressed, and much softer.

Kurimoto asked, "Who, Sai-san? Who? Come on, sit down first." He tugged the boy to his seat, and pulled up a chair opposite him, unheeding of the crowd's interest.

The boy seemed to slouch into himself. "Sai?" he said, shaking his head. "Don't call me Sai, I'm..."

"Yes?" Kurimoto prompted when the boy lapsed into silence.

"I don't know!" the boy finally said, both hands reaching up to clutch at his head. "I know there's supposed to be someone behind me!" he said. For good measure, he turned around again, first to his right and then to his left, but there was nothing but empty air. "But there's no one..." His head sunk so that his chin hit his chest with a dull, empty sound. "No one at all."

May 1, Labour Day

He was dreaming.

It was night, and he was striding along a brightly lit street, waving his arms wildly in his exuberance. "The Kaio teacher praised me! He acknowledged my abilities!" he exclaimed to the listener behind him. "That game, that was me. No one else!" He glanced back, but didn't wait to see the other's response, too excited about the events of the day. "The person that he noticed was me. There is no more Sai in his mind." His lips were stretched in a grin, wide and happy. "One day, I'll erase the Sai in Touya's mind as well."

There'll be no more Sai.

He stopped mid-stride, suddenly realizing that the street was dark and there was no one else around.

The cemetery was dusty and grey with aged gravestones. Accolades to remembered persons vied for space with short, sincere memorials. He walked along stone markers that rose up past his shoulders, looking and looking for someone but who, he didn't know. He was far from his home, and he had raced here in his search to find a person whom no one else knew.

"Fujiwara no Sai? You mean he's a noble from the Heian period? Yes, I'm sure. I even checked with my old teacher. No such person."

He stood in front of a tall marker, puzzled. It should have been the right place, his mind asserted. But it read 'Honinbou Shuusaku.' Wrong name.

He was looking down at a book of kifu, the markings showing familiar hands. But the cover of the book said 'Honinbou Shuusaku.' Still the wrong name.

Then everything disappeared, and he was somewhere else.

The place was dark and cluttered with various objects--he identified it as some kind of goods warehouse right away--with the windows at the side shuttered and dim. There was a faint slant of light on an object right before him, and he tilted his head to one side as he recognized a Go-board. It was quite old, with some scratches on the sides. His heart began to beat faster. Instead of a flawless surface, he could see dark brown marks on the Go-board, and with a start he recognized the marks as bloodstains. The last time he had seen these stains...

"Sai?" he whispered, and turned around.

Only blackness.

"SAI!"

His eyes flew open, and he stared with total incomprehension at the ceiling for several seconds before letting the back of his arm fall over over his eyes, something telling him that he didn't want anyone to see the tears welling from his eyes.

"Are you all right... boy?" There was the snap of a switch and the light at the side table came on.

His eyes were watery as he looked up at the uniformed woman--a nurse, he realized suddenly--who was looking at him with an anxious gaze.

"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked. "Or a headache?"

"I..." he swallowed. "I feel fine," he said.

The door to the ward opened. "I heard someone shout 'Sai'," a man in a white coat said as he came in. He paused as he saw them, and frowned a little.

"Was that you?" he asked.

The boy swallowed. "Who are you?" he asked.

The nurse answered. "This is Dr. Kurimoto," she said. "He's working late today. Doctor," she addressed the man, "I think it's just a bad dream."

"Ah," the doctor nodded. "So you're Dr. Ishida's newest patient. Is everything all right?" he asked.

"Yes," the boy said.

"I heard you shout 'Sai' when I was outside," Kurimoto asked. "Who is that?"

The boy looked confused. "I don't remember."

***

Kuwabara Honinbou was standing in front of the marker with the words 'Honinbou Shuusaku' on it, a cigarette hanging from his lips. "I'd almost forgotten you were here," he said conversationally between puffs. "So, how's the Go where you are?" he asked.

He chuckled to himself. "I bet it's not as enjoyable as the Go in Japan right now," he smirked. "Interesting young fellows have been popping out, ever since Touya Kouyo's boy became a pro. There's this punk, Shindou: he had an extraordinary presence, when I first met him. I heard that he's a fan of your Go. Maybe one day he'll replace you in everyone's mind, ha ha!"

Nodding to himself, he turned away.

***

"This is Masui-san," Kurimoto introduced the boy to the Go enthusiast, who could be frequently found in the hospital, helping to talk to patients and introducing to them Go, to help take their minds off the tedium of long hospital stays.

"Hello," the boy said with a slight bow. His gaze went to his laptop, which was open to a Go game, and stayed there.

"So you know how to play NetGo?" Masui asked, exchanging a glance with Kurimoto. He pushed the laptop in the boy's direction. "Here, have a go. You know how to log in?"

The boy frowned. "I think..." he reached out and placed his hand on the mouse, moving it to click on the sign-in section. He paused at the prompt for the username, his frown deepening, before reaching out to type 's', 'a', 'i'.

Masui gasped, and the boy glanced at him. "I'm sorry... did I do it wrong?" he asked.

"No..." Masui shook his head slowly from side to side. "No, you didn't," he said. "But, boy, did you really mean to sign in as 'sai'?"

The boy took his hand off the keyboard and looked at his fingers. "It seems like... I've done it before," he said, he sounded more confident now.

"'Sai' appeared on the internet a few years ago," Masui said, still blinking at the letters on the monitor. "He disappeared after a short while. There was an impostor after he disappeared, but..." he studied the bemused boy intently. "Are you Sai?" he asked.

"Sai..." The boy frowned. "It sounds familiar," he said.

Masui decided, charitably, not to call the boy an impostor to his face. There was no harm in letting the boy play as 'Sai'--Dr. Ishida and Dr. Kurimoto had said that it was important to encourage the boy to remember anything about his past--even if he was making use of the name of a player that Masui respected deeply.

"I think..." the boy said slowly, so that both Kurimoto and Masui turned to him. "I think my name is Sai."

30 April, normal day

"Ah... If it weren't for this big project, we could have taken the Golden Week break!"

Takamura looked at their newest colleague, who was still young enough to bemoan the lack of free time available to a company employee. "Were you intending to go anywhere, Matsuda-san?" he asked. The company cafeteria was half-deserted; some of their colleagues had gone back to the office already.

Matsuda looked embarrassed. "My girlfriend and I were planning to go to a Go tour, but I had to cancel our reservations."

"Go tour? I didn't know you were interested in Go, Matsuda-san." Their other colleague looked up from his cup of tea.

"Eh heh. I learnt it in university," Matsuda said. "My girlfriend was in the Go club. Do you know Go, Shindou-san?" he asked.

"Don't you know? Shindou-san's son is a Go pro, and quite famous, I heard," Takamura said, before turning to his colleague. "Isn't it so, Shindou-san?"

"Hikaru? Ha ha," Shindou laughed a little. "He's just starting out. He works hard, but he still has a long way to go."

Matsuda frowned in thought. "Hikaru. Your son is Shindou Hikaru, 2-dan?"

Shindou nodded.

"You know about Hikaru?" Takamura asked, looking from Shindou to Matsuda.

Matsuda nodded. "I just saw his name on Go Weekly a few times. He is quite well-known, Shindou-san."

"He'll be surprised to hear that," Shindou said, looking amused. "These days, he spends all his time playing and studying Go, my wife says."

"But he was in the Hokuto Cup tournament, wasn't he?" Takamura asked. "That event sponsored by Hokuto Communications. It was last year; I remember that it was quite popular."

Shindou nodded in acknowledgement. "They're holding it again this year, too," he said. "In June. Hikaru will be taking part again."

"Come to think of it, you must have been quite surprised that your son became a pro," Takamura said, as they stood up and began to walk in the direction of the lifts.

"I thought he'd fail the Pro Exams, actually," Shindou revealed, an amused look on his face. "After all, he'd never been serious about anything in his life. The fascination with Go took us by surprise."

"But it's been smooth-sailing since," Takamura said, moving to press the button for the lift.

Shindou started to nod in agreement, then frowned a little. "Mostly," he said. "There was a time, shortly after he became a pro, when he stopped playing. My wife was really worried."

"But he started playing again, didn't he?" Matsuda asked. "I also heard that he ditched the games for a while, but he went back."

"He never told us what was bothering him. Whatever it was, he got himself through it," Shindou said, shaking his head. "When children grow up, they become independent and have their own thoughts. We feed and clothe him, but as for what goes on inside, we parents can't really help." He looked philosophical at that.

The life doors opened, and Takamura gave a laugh as they filed inside. "Shindou-san, listen to you. You sound like an old man already." He pressed the button for their floor.

Shindou chuckled at his teasing as the doors closed. "Ah, but I'm an old man. Hikaru is already a professional. He works and he has his own busy schedule," he said. "But he still gets Golden Week off, unlike us," he added.

"Ahh..." the three men groaned in unison at the thought of the work waiting in the office.

They reached their floor and walked out. "Shindou-san, you said your son would not be in Tokyo this week. I thought he was away for work," Takamura said.

"Oh, no," Shindou said. "He had plans to travel for a few days. Hiroshima, I think."

"You're lucky, Shindou-san," Takamura said. "Your son is already grown up, and he can take care of himself now."

"Ha ha... you flatter Hikaru, Takamura-san," Shindou said.

They stepped into the office again, back to work and normalcy.

***

"Oh, your son still goes home for dinner, Waya-san?" Shindou Mitsuko exclaimed to the neatly dressed woman sitting opposite her in the cafe. She had been shopping when she ran into the mother of one of her son's friends.

The other woman's face was a mixture of indulgence and exasperation. "I don't really know why he chose to move out if he still brings his laundry home and comes come to eat, or eats at his sensei's place." She sighed. "You're lucky, Shindou-san. Your son probably doesn't make you worry like this."

Shindou shook her head. "Waya-san, your son probably misses you, that's why he comes home for dinner. As for Hikaru, he's too lazy to move out." She thought for a moment, and gave a shudder. "I don't know what I would do if Hikaru decides to move out. I'd be worrying about him all the time, wondering if he's eating right, or if he's wearing warm clothes, or if he's safe and sound..."

Waya nodded. "Children these days, they don't care if we worry about them," she shook her head in resignation. "No matter how much they make us worry, we still have to let them do what they have decided."

"Right!" Shindou said, delighted to find someone who had exactly the same problem: a Go-obsessed son. "It's good to see him taking something seriously. He was such a mischievous boy... As long as his heart is set on it..." She shook her head. "Though it's a very strange career."

"Yes," Waya agreed. "When my relatives ask when Yoshitaka is going to university, I don't know how to answer."

"Oh, my father-in-law plays Go too, so we don't get that."

"Did your son learn Go from him?"

"No. For some reason, he started becoming interested when he was in the sixth grade," Shindou said.

"So late?" Waya asked. "Most children start learning Go before the age of ten."

Shindou shrugged. "He just became interested all of a sudden," she said. "I though it was just one of those obsessions boys get, like with video games, you know? Though he got all the way through the Pro Exams to become a pro before he suddenly stopped."

"Ah. I remember hearing Yoshitaka complaining that his friend suddenly stopped playing Go."

"But he went back to it after a while," Shindou said. "I was relieved, Waya-san. He looked so lost and miserable at that time."

"He's doing well now, isn't he?" Waya said.

"He still has a long way to go, he tells me," Shindou said. "But he's been working very hard, and I was relieved when he said he was going on a holiday this week."

"He isn't in Tokyo?" Waya exclaimed. "No wonder, I just heard Yoshitaka grumbling about how he couldn't contact your son for a game."

"He's gone to Hiroshima. Said he wanted to visit the museum of a famous Go player." She shook her head. "More Go," she said. "And he never switches his phone on!"

"That's boys for you," Waya observed wisely.

***

It was a normal day at work.

Dr. Ishida shook his head at the police officer. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid the patient isn't well enough to let you question him yet."

"Are his injuries that serious?" the officer asked.

"No, he'll be all right," he said, glancing back in the direction of the wards. "But he injured his head, and he's a little confused right now." He saw the officer's puzzled look, and confirmed, "He doesn't remember his own name, or what he was doing when he got injured."

"How about identifying documents? Was he carrying anything?"

Dr. Ishida shook his head once more. "Nothing. It's quite strange. He wasn't even carrying a wallet."

The officer thought for a moment, then nodded. "All right, I understand. I'll check to see if anyone knows of a newcomer into the area."

"Thank you, officer."

Dr. Ishida walked back to the ward, to see the teenager who had been brought in that afternoon. He had been found at the side of the road leading to the town by a delivery van, and suffered from some few cuts on his arms and legs, and a bump on the side of his head.

"Is that our mystery patient?" Dr. Kurimoto, who had come up beside him, asked.

"Has your shift started?" Dr. Ishida asked.

The younger doctor shook his head. "I thought I'd come in a little early to take care of some paperwork. One of the nurses told me about him." He nodded towards the boy, who was investigating the lunch tray placed before him with the air of a small child.

"I've spoke to the police. They'll try to find out who the boy is," Dr. Ishida said.

"Head injuries are funny," Dr. Kurimoto reflected. "I hope his amnesia is just temporary," he said.

"I hope so, too," Dr. Ishida said, then shook his head. "I have to get back to work. See you around, Dr. Kurimoto."

"Uh-huh. Back to work."

29 April, Emperor's Birthday/Green Day

Shindou Hikaru stuck his hands into his pockets, looking around at the trees, which were beginning to turn green. It was good to get a break from the routine studying all day, or playing at the Go Institute, or playing at Go salons. Then again, he had more than his fair share of Go that morning, having visited the museum and Shuusaku's old home, and had a chance to see Shuusaku's Go boards and kifu up close.

It was afternoon now, and he was walking back to his hotel, taking the opportunity to clear his mind from the wistful mood he had fallen into. It was no use, he told himself for the hundredth time. It was a futile trip, really. His last trip to Hiroshima had shown that: Sai was not around anymore.

He missed Sai, and it felt indescribably lonely without him. It might have been better if his rival was in Japan, Hikaru thought, kicking a pebble as he walked along the deserted country road. Unfortunately, Touya Akira had been co-opted into joining his parents on their trip to Taiwan, where an international Go competition awaited the older Touya. His own work commitments had prevented Hikaru from participating, which was ironic, as Golden Week had come round and half the country went on vacation, leaving him at odds. He debated mentally whether to remain in Hiroshima for a few more days, or to return to Tokyo. Perhaps he could look for Waya or Isumi to play a few games, if they were in Tokyo. Better to check that first, though. Nodding to himself, Hikaru took out his phone, and felt his lips twitch a little as he remembered Touya's reaction to the Go-stone phone ornament on it. He looked so indignant, and had muttered about desecrating the game of Go. Oh, well, too bad Touya was not here. Hikaru shrugged, and started to switch it on.

The next moment, the phone fell from his hands. Surely he had seen... he froze, his eyes widening and searching. There it was, again... he saw a glimpse of a figure wearing something white and flowing, darting into the trees at the other side of the road. That person seemed to be wearing something that looked like a black hat, with long, long hair... His heart beating, Hikaru ran towards it.

Surely he could hear that voice again? "Sai!" he called.

He was so preoccupied with chasing the apparition that he failed to notice the oncoming traffic...

***

"Shit! I think I hit someone!" Sugiyama stopped the van. The brakes screeched painfully.

"What?" Kuroda looked up, shocked from his doze. "What did you do?"

Sugiyama had already scrambled out of the van, and was running the front of the vehicle, Kuroda close on his heels, cursing his colleague. Sugiyama should have known better than to speed on these narrow country roads.

There was a person bent double at the side of the road, and Sugiyama was already by his side. "Are you all right?" he could hear Tsuda ask.

The stranger was wearing some pretty strange clothes. For a moment Kuroda thought he was seeing things, then he collected himself. Probably some new fashion that the boy--he caught a glimpse of the face, and the boy looked about seventeen years old--had picked up in Tokyo. "Hey, kid, are you all right?" he asked. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"

The boy shook his head. After a few moments, he said, "I'm okay. I just..." he winced, and Kuroda saw the long red gash that ran all the way down his leg.

"You are injured!" Sugiyama said, his voice rising with panic. He turned to Kuroda. "I told you I hit something!" he whispered.

"It's... it's just a cut," the boy said. "I fell down just down, while walking through the forest. And when you drove by so quickly, I got a start, and fell down again, that's all."

Kuroda nudged his colleague. "Heard that? He said he fell down. We didn't hit him!" he whispered back. Aloud, he said to the boy. "Still, you're injured. You shouldn't be walking. Come on, we'll give you a ride to the hospital, and you can get a doctor to look at it."

The boy looked a little dubious. "My phone," he said, "I dropped it when I fell down. I have to look for it first."

"We'll help you look," Kuroda promised, and the two of them began to search the area.

After a minute, Sugiyama gave an exclamation. "I found it!" he said, before his face fell, staring at the ground. "Er, I'm afraid it's destroyed. This is yours, isn't it?"

Kuroda and the boy joined him. The flattened mess of plastic and metal was nearly unrecognizable as a phone. "It's mine," the boy said decisively. He toed the remains with a scowl. "That was my Go-stone phone ornament," he said.

"Go?" The term sounded familiar to Sugiyama, for some reason.

"Yeah. The game that Honinbou Shuusaku, the greatest Go player ever, played?" The boy looked annoyed when Sugiyama's face only showed polite incomprehension. "There's even a Shuusaku museum not far from here!" he said, then said, "Ow!" He had tried to stamp his foot, only to jar his injured leg.

Kuroda shook his head. "Never mind. Let's get to a doctor first. Come on," he said to the boy, who sighed, nodded, and started to turn towards the van. He stumbled, and Sugiyama immediately grabbed his shoulder to support him, helping him to their van.

"Why are you wearing these strange things, anyway?" Sugiyama asked as he started the van. "I thought I was seeing a ghost!"

The boy shrugged. "We, I mean, me and my classmates, we're re-enacting some scenes from The Tale of Genji. I'm supposed to be from the Fujiwara family." He glanced at the looks of incomprehension, and his scowl deepened. "The Tale of Genji? Written by Murasaki? Set in the Heian period?"

Kuroda frowned. "Oh, the Heian period. You mean they wore clothes like this back then? And that long hair? It makes you look like a girl!"

"It's a wig," the boy said, pulling off his tall black hat and showing them how the wig was fitted into it. "And they did wear clothes like this. We checked."

Kuroda exchanged a look with Sugiyama. Kids.

***

Not far from the remains of the crushed phone, Shindou Hikaru lay unconscious.

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