Title: Shadows of a Voice
Author: Luce Red
Series: Hikaru no Go
Disclaimer: Characters and situations are the property of Hotta and Obata, Shueisha, Jump and their affiliated parts.
Notes/Pairings: Some gratuitous Japanese.  Overuse of ellipsis. HikaruAkira/AkiraHikaru. An OC.
Summary: Someone out there also plays Shuusaku Go.

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0. White Fakes

“It’s not a fake?” he asked, cramming as much courage he could into his voice.

“Genuine, kid. But if you don’t want it…” The man with the white, sharp-looking teeth made as if to turn away.

“I want it,” he said before he could lose his nerve.

White teeth flashed in a grin. “Let’s see your money first.”

They had wrapped it in paper, and he touched the stained, yellowing covering with trepidation. It was smaller than he expected, but still heavy enough that the thud as it landed on the ground made him jump. His heart beat with the thought that this object, the thing that he had been searching for, was finally in his hands. He paid, the man grinned again, awfully, in that darkened alley, and left.

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

1. In which we have Ko Yong-ha bashing

Once in a while, Shindou Hikaru would do something that reminded everyone that despite his vaunted Go skills and rank, he was still a punk at heart. Eighteen years old, 7-dan, one of final contenders for the Ouza title this year, never seen at official matches without a classical, elegant-looking Japanese fan at his side, and who played with a fierce concentration that would not have been out of place on someone, say, Touya Akira, he was understandably known as one of the rising legends of the Japanese Go world. The overlong bangs were still blond, though; he still tended to dress like a skateboard-crazed teenager on occasion, and was the loyal patron of more than a dozen ramen shops scattered around the Go Institute and Dougenzaka.

“He did that?” Isumi asked, frowning.

“Yeah.” Waya could understand his friend’s surprise. He was not a person prone to exaggeration, but the whole incident came out sounding… exaggerated. Even for Shindou. He placed a hand over his forehead like a beleaguered parent, shaking his head. “And after he finished lecturing the entire hall of players and visitors on the difference between kaya wood Go boards and spruce wood, he declared that he was going to force the next dishonest merchant out of business.”

“What did Gokiso-san do then?”

“He was in so much trouble by then, what with the organizers protesting and the buyers demanding explanations and refunds, that I was able to drag Shindou off before he drew any more attention to himself.” Waya grimaced. “The story’s already making the rounds on the internet.”

“Sounds like something he’d do.”

“Huh?” Waya stared at his friend incredulously. “Isumi, if you knew that he was going to do this when I told you I was accompanying him to the Amateur Go Festival, why didn’t you tell me?!”

“No, I didn’t know he was going to do that!” Isumi defended himself hastily from the accusing look in Waya’s eyes. “But he’s been on a personal crusade to eradicate kaya wood imitations for months now.”

“Well, yeah…” Waya trailed off. “But when he jumped on a chair and started yelling if he ever caught anyone else forging Shuusaku’s writings to con the public, he was going to ‘hunt that person down and kill him until he was dead,’ I wanted to find a hole to hide myself in.” He shuddered. “Not the kind of reputation I want to be associated with, that Shindou. Defender of Shuusaku’s name…” he sighed. “Did I tell you about the time I caught him studying Shuusaku’s kifu in the old archives room? He looked like he just lost his best friend, you know, like the time he decided to stop playing Go? I was afraid to ask, but he just said he’d have to work harder to catch up.” He shrugged.

“Didn’t you tell me once that Shindou’s horribly sensitive on the subject of Shuusaku?” Isumi commented.

“Yeah. Like that first Hokuto tournament, when he was absolutely determined to beat Ko Yong-ha because the man said he was better than Shuusaku.” Waya shook his head. “I’ll never understand that guy.”

“Waya, Isumi!” Came a yell, and the two friends looked up to see the subject of their conversation waving madly from the entrance of the Institute as Shindou made his way to them. They’d arrange to eat lunch (yes, ramen) but Waya had decided to wait outside on the corner of the street after meeting one too many curious looks aimed his way inside the Institute.

Waya, you left so early!” Shindou said as he approached.

Waya looked over Shindou’s shoulder at the middle-aged, bespectacled man who was walking away. He’d been talking to Shindou, Waya realized. “Who was that?” he asked.

“Oh, one of the regulars at Dougenzaka. He asked me for a game this weekend, but I said I wasn’t playing.” Shindou shrugged.

“Eh?!” Swiftly, Isumi and Waya exchanged glances. Shindou didn’t look particularly upset, so surely…

“It’s Golden Week next week, and I’m visiting my parents in Beijing. Remember?” Shindou reminded them.

Waya’s knees felt slightly weak. “Oh, yeah,” he said.  What was he thinking? Shindou’s father had been posted to his company’s Beijing office last year, and his mother had accompanied her husband, leaving Shindou alone in Tokyo. Shindou had said it was good practice for living on his own someday, but he’d mentioned that his mother was eager to see him after a separation of several months. “When’s your flight?” he asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon.” Shindou began walking in the direction of the ramen restaurant behind the Institute. “I haven’t even done my packing yet!” he said. He yawned widely. “Late night,” he said, abashed at their stares.

“Uh-huh,” Waya said, before adding, “I didn’t see you yesterday. I thought you said you were going to watch the Beginner Dan games for this year’s new pros with us.”

“Yeah, well.” Shindou rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, his feet finding the way unerringly to the ramen restaurant. “I met that old man when I went in, and we had a game instead.” He heaved a sigh. “I lost by two moku, but that that’s okay, it was just a friendly match.” He cheered up again. “Next time, I’ll beat him,” he said.

Waya hid a grimace and exchanged a look with Isumi. ‘That old man’ was none the other than Kuwabara Honinbou, and his friendly matches were never friendly. Shindou was probably the only young pro who didn’t seem intimidated by the title-holder, his reputation or his game. Then again, Shindou was probably the only known person in the Go world to have referred to Kuwabara Honinbou as ‘Old Man Kuwabara’ in public, as he famously did when the two of them were formally introduced two years ago. Shindou defended himself later by saying that he was freaked out by the news that Kuwabara-sensei had been paying attention to his career (by then an open secret in the Go world), but the damage was done (and recorded on TV).

They reached the ramen restaurant, and were forced to wait as a group of customers exited at the same time. Waya could have sworn he saw Shindou bounce up and down on the balls of his feet in impatience as they waited. He rolled his eyes before meeting Isumi’s amused expression. In certain matters, Shindou was much too predictable.

“Welcome to… Shindou-san! And your friends! Please, this way!” Yes, it was easy to see that the proprietor adored Shindou’s custom. They sat down at one of the larger tables and ordered their food.

“Anyway, it’s probably better that you’re leaving for a little while,” Waya remarked near the end of the meal. “After the stunt you pulled at the Festival…”

“Huh?” Shindou asked, slurping the last of his noodles nosily. “Oh,” he looked a little embarrassed. “I guess I got carried away.”

“How long will you be in China?” Isumi asked, changing the subject and giving Waya a look.

“About ten days. Mum and Dad want to do some travelling. Just for the first few days. I have the telephone numbers of a few people at the Chinese Go Institute that you gave me, so I’m visiting there, too.”

“Yang Hai will be interested to see you again,” Isumi said. "And Zhao Shi and Lan Ping."

“Yeah,” Shindou said, before brightening. “That’ll be fun.”

“What are you doing after this?” Isumi asked. “Don’t you have a game later?”

“No," Shindou said. “I’ll probably go over to play a game with Touya after this,” he said. “He came back from Seoul yesterday, but I haven’t had the opportunity to talk to him properly yet. Good!” He rubbed his hands. “I’ll have to ask him how many times he beat Ko Yong-ha,” he said in a gleeful voice.

Waya tried not to roll his eyes. “How do you know he played with Ko-san?” he asked. “Both of them have different schedules, you know.”

Shindou smirked. “I knew he’d ask Ko for a game. He was annoyed that I beat Ko twice last year, while he didn’t even get to play him. He’s so combative.”

Isumi blinked. “Don’t you mean ‘competitive’?” he asked.

"That too,” Shindou allowed, pushing his empty bowl away, and relaxing with a satisfied sigh of repletion. “But Touya loves playing with high-level players, and he’d go out of the way to find good opponents whenever he can.”

Just like you, Waya thought, but he didn’t say it. “Well, you know him best,” he said.

“Wait,” Isumi suddenly thought of something. “If he got back from Seoul yesterday, why aren’t you having lunch with him instead?”

“Well, er…” Shindou looked shifty for a second. “Touya-sensei just got back from Kyuushu this morning, and Touya’s having lunch with him.”

At that, Waya chuckled darkly, and even Isumi smiled.

Shindou looked wounded. “Guys!” he complained. “What kind of response is that?”

“Oh come on, Shindou,” Waya said. “The man’s practically your father-in-law, and you’re still scared of him?”

“But it’s Touya-sensei!” Shindou protested, for once ignoring the ‘father-in-law’ jibe. “And I’m not scared of him, I just… have a healthy respect for him!”

“Uh huh.” Waya sounded unconvinced.

“Besides, he’s so... imposing. The first time I played Go with him, I swear, I saw light coming from his fingertips…” Shindou said, his voice becoming soft as he drifted into memory.

Waya was so taken by the idea of Touya Kouyo, ex-Meijin, as a laser-shooting alien-Go player that he doubled over in fits of laughter. “Sorry…” he murmured after a few minutes, in reply to Isumi and Shindou’s incredulous expressions. “But I just can’t imagine…” he explained what he’d just thought, swallowing a hiccup of laughter at the end.

Isumi looked as though he was having difficulty stifling his own laughter.

Shindou, however, looked scandalized. “That’s ridiculous!” he protested. “You have no idea what he was like. I was just a kid, and he looked so serious, so confident! He’s not an alien!”

Even Isumi gave a chuckle at the last.

Waya was thinking over what Shindou had just said. ‘Just a kid’… “You mean when you played with Touya-sensei at the Beginner Dan game, it wasn’t your first game together?”

“Er…” Shindou rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. “Er, no. We, er, sort of played a few hands when I was just starting to play Go. We didn’t finish the game.”

“Why not? Because you realised he was too good?”

“…something like that. I panicked and ran away, if you really want to know.” Shindou slumped in his seat. “How embarrassing, now that I think about it.”

Waya glanced at Isumi. They’d discussed why it was that Touya Kouyo had designated Shindou for his Beginner Dan game, and came up empty. This must be why. Another clue to the mystery that was Shindou Hikaru. Typically of him, though, Waya thought grumpily, this clue just made things even more mystifying. For example, why had Shindou ‘the kid’—who could barely play, judging by his skill level when he first became an insei—come to play with Touya-sensei in the first place? Waya could feel a headache coming on, and he shook his head firmly. “Never mind that,” he said, deciding that questioning Shindou further would only result in more mind-boggling answers.

They decided to leave after a few more minutes of chatting, and waited as Shindou settled the bill and paused outside the ramen restaurant briefly. “Well, I guess I’ll see you again in the next ten days or so,” Shindou said.

“Have fun on your trip,” Waya said.

“Please send my regards to your parents,” Isumi said, polite as ever, and Waya echoed the sentiment.

Shindou nodded. “We’ll play again when I get back,” he said. “See you.” He turned and walked in the direction of the Institute.

Waya watched him turn the corner. “I’ll never understand that guy,” he said, shaking his head.

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

2. A Slight Haunting

"Hikaru-kun?" Ichikawa nodded at him as he came in.  "Didn't you get Akira-kun's message?"

Shindou blinked at her.  "Eh?" he asked, then felt an embarrassed look came over his face.  "My phone battery went flat.  What message?"

"Akira-kun said he wouldn't be able to meet you today for your game," Ichikawa said.  "He's had an extra tutoring session that he had to reschedule."

Shindou rolled his eyes.  "That guy's schedule... it's crazy.  He doesn't have a life other than Go," he gripped, before looking around awkwardly.  "Well, then, I'll just be going back then..." he began to shuffle to the side.

"Ah, Shindou-sensei!"  One of the other regular customers came up to the counter.

"Uh... Kume-san!" Shindou remembered the man's name just in time.

"Would you mind playing a game of shidougo with me?"  The middle-aged man smiled pleasantly at him.  He had known the young man since his first game with Touya, and had listened to their loud arguments over the last two years.  Really, Shindou was one of the few people--perhaps the only one--who was able to provoke Touya so well.

Shindou felt slightly awkward at his request. Aren’t they supposed to be looking for Akira for this? he thought, looking around the Go-salon again as though he expected Touya Akira to pop out of thin air, and not finding that, nodded.  "Of course, Kume-san," he conceded.

* * * *

"What a pity my grandson doesn't play Go," Kume said, looking at the Go board.  The boy had shown him an entirely new way of using 'peep' halfway through the game.  Truly, he was talented. “I was trapped over here," he said reflectively, pointing to the upper-left corner. 

"If you played your hand here," Shindou said, pointing, "I would be forced to abandon this section."

"Oh!" He looked over the Go board.  "It was an interesting game.  Thank you for the instruction," he said.

"Don't mention it," Shindou said.  "Thank you for the instruction," he added formally before gathering the stones and replacing them in the go-ke, and prepared to get up.  Just then, they both heard loud voices at the counter, and Shindou raised his head curiously in that direction.

"Is Touya Akira here?" A loud voice asked. It sounded male, and young.

"He's not here today," Ichikawa said.  "Wait a minute!  Kid, you have to pay if you want to play here," she added.

The loud clang of a five-hundred-yen coin being slapped down on the counter told Shindou and Kume-san that the 'kid', whoever he was, was being exceptionally rude.  Besides, Ichikawa called somebody 'kid' only when she didn't like him.

"I'm here to challenge Touya Akira," the voice declared.  "I know that he plays shidougo here.  Maybe I can see how good his opponents are!"

"Oi, kid!"  An irate voice responded.  "Who do you think you are to challenge Touya 8-dan?"

Shindou guessed it was Kitajima-san.  The man was rather protective of Akira's reputation, which had led to more than one snipping contest between them during his and Touya's post-game discussions.  Kitajima usually felt that he was criticizing Touya too much.

"I heard that he used to tutor Ochi Kousuke 5-dan, and I beat Ochi yesterday!  So I'm here to beat Touya Akira himself."

Despite his surprise at the declaration about Ochi, Shindou felt amused at the boy's words.  It had been a long time, he was sure, since anyone had stepped into the Go-salon to say such things.  Touya Akira was just too well-known, first as the Meijin's son, and later as one of the fastest rising pros of the Go-world for just anyone to declare his intention of beating him.  Even the high-ranking pros were liable to pause before making such a statement.  They also tended to be more cautious, Shindou mused, those old geezers, always hedging their words.  He wondered briefly why he hadn't heard of someone who was strong enough to beat Ochi before, and stood up to see who it was.

Huh.  Looks about my age, he thought, though the boy was dressed in a high school uniform, while Shindou was in his usual long-sleeved T-shirt and jacket.  He was of medium height, with thick, slightly wavy hair framing a nice-looking face, but one with a petulant droop to his mouth.  But there was something about the expression on the boy's face, the way he turned his head from side to side that made the hairs on Shindou's neck rise. It was as if he was looking at something other people couldn't see.  But the others in the salon didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary.  Despite himself, Shindou took a step forward.  He then heard Tange-kun said, "I'll play with you, then!  I've played with Touya-sensei several times."

He resisted the urge to cover his eyes with his hand as the other boy accepted.  Tange Kazuo was a new insei, two years younger than Shindou, and if there was one word to describe him, it was 'enthusiastic'.  No, Shindou corrected himself.  It should be '#1 fan of Touya Akira'.  He was good, but Shindou judged that it would take at least a year before he was good enough to be pro.  He watched as Tange led the boy to a nearby table and took a seat.  The boy followed, his eyes sharp and suspicious, and Shindou could hear a few of the regulars mutter about the boy's uncongenial attitude.

A small crowd had gathered to watch the game; Kume-san had joined the crowd too, and after a few seconds Shindou shrugged and decided he might as well watch, too.  He pushed his chair back and made his way to the front, just in time to hear Tange ask, "What's your name?"

"My name is Isobe Hideki," the boy said, smirking. 

"My name is Tange Kazuo," Tange introduced himself, pulling the go-ke towards him.

"Who asked you?" Isobe sneered. 

"You..." Tange looked surprised.

Isobe continued, "The only name you need to remember is mine; you can tell everyone else that I defeated you."

Tange's eyes, Shindou noticed, narrowed briefly, then regained their usual good temper.  Ah, definitely learnt that from Touya.  Touya had a way of letting insults over the Go board wash over him that Shindou envied; then again, Touya usually repaid the insult tenfold through his Go instead.  "Shall we nigiri?" Tange asked, seemingly unruffled, while Shindou grinned behind his fan.

Tange got white, and the game started in earnest.

Isobe was good, Shindou realized after the first few hands.  Extraordinarily good.  Then again, he was not naïve enough to imagine that just someone would be a poor player just because he or she was unknown.  After all, he had entered the Go-world in just the same fashion.  Tange was going for the sides, Shindou saw; he was rapidly building a shape to swallow his opponent's territory.

When Isobe attacked, Shindou was surprised for the first time that afternoon.  That was a good strategy, to rally his own shape by anchoring the corners.  Interesting play; he spotted Tange hiding a scowl as he blocked the attack.  But as the game continued, Shindou found his mind racing as one familiar hand after another followed.  He felt as though he stood on the verge of huge, terrifying vista, like an explorer on the edge of world's end, not daring to believe what he was seeing.  Even the 'pachi!' of the stones seem louder, as Isobe chased down the middle zone with quick, precise hands.  The bare lines of territory were sketched, in tune to the shifting clicks of stones as each was taken from the go-ke, and the murmurs of the crowd, while his heart beat fast. Those moves were old, popular in a time when there was no komi.  Like Shuusaku's Go, Shindou realized, and sweat ran down his back at the thought, like Sai's Go.  

Shindou told himself that it was impossible.  Sai had left, he couldn't have come back--at least he couldn't have come back to the real world by attaching to someone else.  The boy must have been studying Shuusaku's kifu; many Go players did.  Still, there was no denying that Tange was hopelessly outclassed.  The game continued, and the onlookers could sense Tange's frustration at playing someone who seemed so inexorable, who played without hesitation, and in what must seem to be such an old-fashioned way.  Shindou saw it before Tange did; the left-corner territory was going to be cut off in another five hands or so, and when that happened...

"I've lost," Tange said through gritted teeth.  "Thank you for your instruction," he said.  He looked irritated rather than devastated, as Shindou half-expected, and he glared at his opponent, who murmured the most insincere 'Thank you for your instruction' Shindou had ever heard.  "Isobe Hideki, right?" Tange asked.

His opponent nodded.

"Why aren't you an insei like me?" Tange asked, no, accused.

Isobe looked startled at the tone of Tange's voice, but stretched a sneer on his lips again.  "I've played against pros and won.  There's nothing challenging about their Go."

A buzz of discontent at his reply rose at his words, but no one wanted to be the first to say anything.

Tange looked even more frustrated as he gathered the stones.  He looked around, and spotted Shindou.  "Shindou-sensei!" he exclaimed, sounding as though he had suddenly found a saviour.

Shindou could read Go games far ahead; he could read how this encounter was going to go, too, and cursed his dyed hair for being so visible.  "Ahh," he said blandly.  "Good game, Tange-san."

"Shindou-sensei!  Why don't you play with Isobe-san?  Show him what a challenging game of Go is!" Tange urged.

"Er..." Shindou wondered if he could get away by pleading a sudden emergency... maybe he could set off the ring-tone on his phone... then remembered that his phone battery was dead.  It wasn't that he didn't want to play Go with the Isobe kid, but the thought of playing someone who played so much like Sai seemed wrong, somehow.  Besides, he didn't want to be associated with Touya Meijin's salon.  What if Morishita-sensei finds out? he thought on reflex.

"Him?" Isobe asked, staring at Shindou with a critical expression on his face.  "Are you an insei as well?"

"Of course he's not!" Tange said before Shindou could reply. "He's a pro, and he's really good.  Touya-sensei knows him.  Play with him, Shindou-sensei!"

With all eyes on him—even Ichikawa's—Shindou gave an inner sigh of surrender.  You better appreciate all I'm doing to uphold your reputation, Akira.  "I'll be glad too," he said politely.  "If Isobe-san doesn't mind?"

"You're a pro?" Isobe sounded skeptical, then shrugged.  "Whatever.  Let's play, then."

Tange stood up, offering his seat to Shindou, who gave up all hope of being miraculously rescued, sat down and began psyching himself for the game.  The nigiri showed that Shindou got black.

Isobe glanced at the fan in front of him.  "What is that?" he jeered.  "Looks like something only old geezers and weirdos carry around!"

Shindou gritted his teeth.  "Please give me your guidance," he said through clenched teeth.  Nobody, but nobody, insults the fan! 

Seemingly oblivious to his tone, Isobe muttered "Please give me your guidance."

They started playing, and Shindou found himself taken aback more than once as Isobe played hands that were so familiar.  But one look at his opponent told him that it wasn't Sai, it was just another teenaged boy who was determined to make trouble by disturbing all the other players in the salon.  And yet, from time to time, the feeling of unease about the boy heightened, as though there was something more to him than an unsettling familiarity with Shuusaku's games.  A couple more hands later, he spotted it. 

The boy played like Shuusaku, yes.  Too much like him.  He didn't take advantage of positions that could have been advantageous for modern games with komi.  And that was not Sai's way.  Sai's Go remained distinctive, but with his insatiable appetite for Go, he had learnt newer plays during his time with Shindou, and he never hesitated to use a newer move if it would lead to victory.  This was not Sai.  Shindou relaxed, and settled into the game earnestly. 

That's it.  Shindou blinked, feeling slightly dazed as he climbed back down from the euphoria of the game. Good games did that to him.  And it was tough, much tougher than Shindou expected.  However the boy came by with his distinctive play, he had been a strong opponent.  Shindou suspected that even Touya Akira would have to break out a sweat or two.  Especially if he, like Shindou, spotted the Shuusaku play.  But there were strange gaps in the boy's game.  He would start to attack, but fail to exploit his advantage in the next hand.  Shindou, who never let any moves slip by him if he could help it, managed to turn the game around.  Finally, it was at an end.  That's all that can be played.  They started counting territory.  Eight moku and a half's difference.  Shindou leaned back a little, watching his opponent, who was clenching his fists in the fabric of his uniform.  "I... I've lost," Isobe finally said, his voice low and cracked with emotion.

"Ah."  The mood in the salon seemed to lighten at the sound, as the crowd slowly dispersed, some talking about the game.  Tange looked positively gleeful.

"Thank you for the instruction," Shindou said, and seconds passed before the boy echoed the phrase.  He watched Isobe a moment more, then concluded that the other boy was not going to be interested in a post-game discussion.  "You should think about becoming a pro," he offered, and started to gather the stones, wondering to ask if the boy practiced often with Shuusaku's games.  There was no response, and with an inner shrug, Shindou stood up and prepared to go home.

"Wait!" Isobe said before he had reached the counter.

"Huh?" Shindou turned back.

Isobe's eyes were red-rimmed, though the petulant look remained in his face.  "Are you... are you really Touya Akira's student?" he asked.

"Shindou-sensei?" Tange interrupted.  "Shindou-sensei is Touya-sensei's rival!  Don't you know anything at all?" he seethed.

Shindou managed to sneak off when the two boys continued glaring at each other.

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

3. An Interlude of Comparisons

It was a little-known fact that Kuwabara Honinbou visited Touya Kouyo from time to time to play Go, and that after their games, they talked about Shindou Hikaru.

Kuwabara continued to be fascinated by Shindou; his fascination didn't fade even after he had met, and played, the young pro, who had roused such attention when he first entered the Go world. They had yet to meet in an official match, however.  Rather, he made it a point to meet Shindou when the young pro went to the Go Institute, and inveigh him for a game. (He refused to use the word 'waylaid.') This was despite the fact that Shindou invariably referred to him by the disrespectful tag 'Old Man Kuwabara' to his face, and furthermore lost to him regularly. He always enjoyed himself, moreover, not only with the games, but also with Shindou's unsubtle attempts to play it cool.

“I hear that the boy is on the verge of breaking into the League games for the Meijin title. Giving your son some pressure, isn’t he?” Kuwabara crackled with laughter, shrill enough to rattle the paper-covered sliding doors. They had finished a game, and both took the opportunity to relax.

“Akira can handle it,” Touya Kouyo said, his expression unruffled.

“Indeed,” Kuwabara agreed. “Had a game with him the other day. I had a good time. He has an abrupt way of explaining his moves.”

Touya raised his eyes from the Go board at that. “You played shidougo with him?”

“Not at all,” Kuwabara laughed again. “An even game. He loses constantly. But we find the experience amusing.”

Privately Touya thought that Kuwabara was just too canny to let Shindou become accustomed to his style of playing. Despite all expectations, the old man had yet to relinquish his title to anyone else—not even Ogata or Kurata—and the Honinbou title looked to remain with him for another season.

“He does have an extraordinary grasp of Shuusaku’s games,” Kuwabara went on, “Not comprehensive, mind you, but a remarkable understanding that you don’t often see, and his Go is at its best when he combines Shuusaku’s moves with modern ones.”

“Ahh.”

“Makes one think that he didn’t learn it just by studying old games, but by some other way,” Kuwabara said, his narrowed eyes watching him. “He's familiar with other, older moves as well. Occasionally he comes up with a move that is positively tricky…” Touya looked up at that, his eyes narrowed, and Kuwabara smirked. “That got your attention, I see.”

“I saw a move like that once. When Akira recreated a game he had with Shindou for me.”

“So!” Kuwabara pounced. “Not from your own games with him, then?”

Touya wished very hard for more patience at the old man’s gleeful tone. “No,” he said finally. “Shindou… for some reason, he seems to be avoiding me. I haven’t played him more than a few times.”

Kuwabara leered. “Son-in-laws are always difficult to manage,” he said with mock-sympathy. “I remember when my daughter got married, I had to terrorize the boy a few times to make sure he treated her properly.” He nodded, in a seemingly sage-like fashion, while Touya concealed his twitch at the ‘son-in-law’ crack.

The two of them had been remarkably discreet, not out of any fear of unwelcome attention, but due to their natural reticence regarding anything outside of Go. There were more than enough personal idiosyncrasies among Go players that their relationship simply didn’t raise many eyebrows. It was an open secret among the higher-ranked pros of Shindou’s acquaintance, and fact to those who actually knew Shindou or Akira. Neither camp cared much—an obsession with Go put paid to most disapproving opinions. The in-law jokes, however…

“I hear that you managed to defend your title again this year,” Touya said, changing the subject. “Congratulations.”

“Ah.” The old man waved his arm in a dismissive fashion. “Those young punks, I’m not about to let them defeat me yet.”

"Ogata, wasn’t it?”

“At the finals?” Kuwabara nodded, “Yes. A close match, but Ogata-kun’s not quite there yet.” He was watching Touya again, his half-closed eyes narrowed in slits. “It’s you who must be enjoying yourself, playing in amateur matches in China and Korea, just imagine that. Come to think of it, the brat is in China this week, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Touya said. Given Shindou’s character, he was more than likely to have told Kuwabara his plans, but it looked like Kuwabara was baiting him again. “He’s probably told you: he’s visiting his parents in Beijing.”

“He did. So it couldn’t have been him…” Kuwabara frowned slightly, the lines on his face deepening as he did so.

Touya looked at him. “You’ve heard something about Shindou?” he asked.

Kuwabara shook his head. “Not about him. But another child, quite possibly the brat’s age. He’s been going around challenging pro players, but only in Go-salons.” A number of Go pros had agreements with certain Go-salons to be present at certain times of the week, to give informal tutoring lessons to the customers. Such agreements enhanced the reputations of the Go salons.

“That would mean that he’s not a pro.”

“But a troublemaker,” Kuwabara said. “He seems to play for the sole intention of taking down big egos and insulting high-ranked players.” Kuwabara sounded pleased at the idea. “I’ve heard that he is rude, and is disrespectful to everyone he meets in the salons.” Go was an old game and its players, especially those in Japan, liked the formality of its traditional courtesies. Discourteous players were regarded with contempt.

Possibly not with Kuwabara, Touya decided. The Honinbou title-holder was highly respected in the Go world, and he was secure enough in his own position not to be easily offended by brash displays of temper. There was his relationship with Shindou, for example. “Sounds like you want to play with him,” Touya said.

“Ha!” Kuwabara gave a short bark of laughter. “I’m afraid it is you who would want to play him,” he commented. “The rumour is that the kid plays like Shuusaku.”

Touya looked up at that.

“That got your attention, didn’t it?” Kuwabara looked pleased with himself. “Heard that you’ve been particularly interested in Shuusaku these couple of years. I always thought you were more of a Honinbou Jowa player.”

The reference to the Edo player could be meant as a slight, in reference to the way Jowa was thought to have gained the Meijin title through political manoeuvring, but Touya chose not to take it in that way. “The games of the earlier masters are all worth studying,” he said.

“Oh? And here I was thinking that your interest in Shuusaku was caused by your defeat to that NetGo player named Sai three years ago.”

The old man was looking sly--very sly, Touya thought.

“Come to think of it,” Kuwabara went on, a hand on his chin, seeming to look into the distance, “That was when you announced your retirement, too. Everybody thinks that it was because of your health, but I wonder…” His eyes widened. “Could it be because of your defeat?” he asked, his tone expectant.

Touya waited for a few seconds, then said, “I hope you’re not just saying all this because I gained the advantage in endgame with my ‘squeeze’ hand in the corner, are you?”

Kuwabara narrowed his eyes. That hand, while simple, had indeed been the crucial hand for the game. Go players analysed hands in terms of ‘Black does this’ or ‘White does this’; for Touya to say ‘my hand’ meant that he had seen through Kuwabara’s attempt to rattle him. He found himself amused all over again, and chuckled. “You’re just as stodgy as ever,” he remarked, shaking his head. “I don’t know the name of the boy,” he said, “I’ve only heard about him from a few of my students. But you have said it before: If the boy is really so remarkable, he will appear in the Go world sooner or later.”

“I said that of Shindou.”

“And who is to say that this boy is different?” Kuwabara leant forward to pick up his cup of tea. It had become a little cold, but he took a sip. “I will say that even Shuusaku, if he does reappear in our time, will need to prove himself before I consider him a worthy opponent.”

The sheer arrogance of the words was somehow ameliorated when it came from someone like Kuwabara Honinbou. Touya watched as the narrowed eyes suddenly glinted in amusement. “Until then, I’ll amuse myself with Shindou-kun,” Kuwabara said. “Who knows, maybe your son-in-law will be the one to take the title from me one day!” He seemed to find his own words hilarious and laughed loudly.

Those in-law jokes…

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

4. An Old Name Re-surfaces

Waya stared at the game he had just lost.  He had been expertly cut off on the right, and in the centre, the black had been dominated so thoroughly that the territory was lost as well.  He frowned, and stared at his opponent, who was smirking in a way that made Waya want to punch him.

"You can't win against me," the boy said.  "My level's too high for you."  His face was pale with exertion but the look of triumph on it made Waya clench his fists under the table.  The boy got up, took his jacket off the back of the chair, and walked out of the doors of Dougenzaka, while Waya choked for a reply.  It couldn't be.  He was so sure that only Shindou...

Like some of the younger Go pros who still visited Go salons now and then, Waya had heard of a boy who was going around beating Go players and afterwards insulting them.  The stories were more prominent among amateur players and the insei, who were apt to play in Go salons.  It was said that the boy had defeated Ochi 6-dan.  (Ochi ignored anyone who tried to raise the topic with him.)  It was also said that Shindou had defeated the boy.  Or maybe he had been defeated by the boy; it was hard to confirm the rumour. Waya wasn't sure that Isobe boy was the one mentioned in all those stories, but the alleged rudeness was certainly there.  That, and the other, crazier whisper: that the boy played like Shuusaku.

Shindou Hikaru was the only person Waya had met who played like Shuusaku.  Or rather, he amended inwardly, Shindou played like Sai, who in turn played like a modern version of Shuusaku.  Of course, familiarity with Shuusaku's moves did not guarantee success.  Shindou was rising rapidly in the pro world, but he still lost at times to the higher-ranked pros, and most recently to Touya Akira.  But if Go games had a flavour, Shindou's Go would be Shuusaku-flavoured.  Waya had seen a few of his games that used nearly all modern moves, and he was still reminded of Shuusaku.  That was what was distinctive about Shindou's Go.  Many Go players studied Shuusaku's kifu, and some used Shuusaku's moves, but few used them as frequently as Shindou--and only Shindou had internalized them as fluently.  Unless you counted Sai...

At that thought, Waya stood up, almost upsetting his chair, and with a muttered excuse, took off after the departing boy. The remaining patrons in the salon muttered after him, but Waya was beyond caring.

It was a stroke of luck that the very salon he'd decided to play in that afternoon had been visited by the boy.  Waya had yet to decided if it was good or bad luck. But he had to know how, exactly, the boy came by his play. It was already late afternoon, and as Waya turned a corner he saw the boy standing in front of a vending machine, drinking deeply from a can.

"Isobe-san," he said, approaching.

The boy lowered his drink, and gazed at him.  "It's you," he said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "Look, you lost fairly.  What do you want?"

"I want to know how you came to play... the way you did?" Waya asked, now feeling awkward.  How exactly did one go about asking your opponent if he played like a long-dead Go player? 

The boy's eyes narrowed in irritation.  "I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

The insincerity in his voice was so thick that Waya could have sliced it off with a dull knife. Angered, he took another step forward.  "I want to know why you're playing like Shuu... like Sai!" he finished.  Shuusaku was undoubtedly dead, but Sai, at least, could still be alive.  Right? he asked himself.

"Sai?" If it was possible, the boy's expression grew even harder. "You're being ridiculous," he said coldly, turning to drink again.  "I don't know any Sai," he said, after gulping the last of his drink.

"Sai, the NetGo player who appeared four years ago," Waya said, the words falling from his lips rapidly as though on autopilot.  "He was unbeaten during the entire summer he played, and he disappeared mysteriously for a year after that.  I played with him many times, and he defeated me, too," he went on, his voice growing louder as he spoke. "Nobody knew who he was, and everyone's been trying to find out."  If only this boy knew how many people wanted to know Sai's actual identity, how many people wanted to play him... wanted to play like him!  He'd suspected Shindou for a long time, but here was another boy who'd also appeared mysteriously, and played a type of Go that, Waya seriously suspected, had not been seen for more than a hundred years.

"Oh. Him."

The other boy's voice drew his attention, and Waya looked up to see the boy's expression turn speculative. 

"Yes, him." Waya said, watching the boy, hoping to see any change in his expression that would give him a clue.  "I want to know how you're playing like Sai.  He was a great player.  He defeated Touya Akira... even Touya Meijin lost to him!"

The boy blinked, though his expression was now guarded and his voice was neutral, giving nothing away.  "What if I told you that I'm Sai?" he asked.

The bottom dropped out of Waya's stomach.  He stared at Isobe, feeling his jaws drop.  "Say... say that again," he whispered after a while. His voice shook with disbelief, and he swallowed to moisten a suddenly dry throat.

The smirk had returned to the boy's face.  "I said, I'm Sai."

"No..."  He was conscious of having started to shake his head in denial.  "It can't be..."  It had to be an illusion.  It couldn't be.  Waya felt as though the universe was playing a joke on him.  After all the years of mystery and speculation, it simply couldn't be that Sai was really an arrogant kid who couldn't even win a game graciously.  But there were those comments 'I'm pretty strong, aren't I?' that Sai had returned after their first game.  It had led Waya to deduce that Sai was really a child.  Just not... this one. 

If it was possible, the boy looked more superior than ever.  Perhaps he saw through Waya's attempts to dissuade himself. "You don't have to believe me," the boy said.  "But I beat you just now, didn't I?"  he said, throwing his empty can into a disposal bin nearby and walking away.

There was nothing Waya could say to that.

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

5. Shifts

"What did you say?"

For a moment, Ashiwara flattened himself against the back of his chair. Ogata either had no idea how threatening he looked like that, or he did, and enjoyed intimidating his opponents. He gathered his nerve and answered, "I heard some of the other younger pros talking about it," he said. "I asked, but they couldn't give me any details. They said the boy appears out of the blue, plays even games even though he's not a pro, and has been telling his opponents that he is Sai."

Ogata sat down again. "An impostor?" he asked.

"Nobody knows for sure. He plays like Shuusaku, I've heard," Ashiwara said. "Ogata, what..."

"Which Sai did." Ogata pushed the ashtray away from him, and leaned forward again. "Where can I find him?" he asked. Ashiwara studied his friend warily. Not many people knew Ogata Seiji well, not even him. Despite his passion for Go, the man carried himself well, drove a nice car, and... well, there was denying it: the man was cool. He did everything with style. He held himself just slightly apart from the general crowd of clueless-about-real-life Go pros. However, Ogata did have a stubborn, petulant streak a mile wide, particularly when it came to finding new opponents in Go. He had been fixated on 'Sai' for a while now. "I don't know," he admitted. "None of the others know."

Ogata looked frustrated, and sat back with a heavy thump.

"You... really want to play with him?" Ashiwara asked after a while.

Ogata tapped out a cigarette from a metal case and lighted it. "I saw the game he played with Akira-kun," he said. "It was... I wanted to be the one to play that game."

"But Akira-kun lost that game." Though he seldom played NetGo, Ashiwara was aware of the huge discussion that still loomed in the online Go community about the mysterious player. Some players, in fact, spent their time ferreting out as many records of the games Sai had played, and discussing them, years after Sai had stopped playing NetGo. There was a huge Sai-shaped hole in the community.

"I could have won it," Ogata insisted, tapping some ash into the tray before him. "And I saw the game he played with Touya-sensei," he went on. "I knew then, that I had to play him, too. I had to know... where I stood, with a player like that. Shindou is connected with him, I know, but he refuses to reveal a thing. I thought Touya-sensei might know who Sai was, but he denied everything, saying he only played with Sai because they met accidentally."

"Touya-sensei is curious too," Ashiwara said.

Ogata's glare intensified through his glasses. "He knows about this Sai?"

Ashiwara shook his head. "He made a remark about a boy who played like Shuusaku. I thought he was referring to Shindou-kun at that time, though. Now that I think about it, perhaps he was referring to this boy." He paused, and asked, “Do you think this ‘Sai’, whoever he is, will play NetGo again?”

*****

"Hideki-kun, is that you?"

"Yeah!" So much for hoping that she was still out. He kicked off his shoes and walked to his room, ignoring the admonishments to have his dinner first. He closed and locked his bedroom door, and stared at the Go board in the corner of his room, remembering how the sheer knowledge of Go had filled him when he played.

He didn’t necessarily like that feeling. It felt just a bit alien. Sometimes he woke in the night with the terrifying notion that it had filled him up so thoroughly that he couldn’t feel himself, his flesh, anymore. But each time he laid out a game, he was tempted...

He was getting better at the games, he told himself. He was still in control; he would get even better, he was going to win all his games, and he was going to take the Go world by storm. He was going to win Touya Akira. Then they would all acknowledge that he was the best.

The conversation with that Waya person had infuriated and pleased him in some way he couldn't describe. Yes, it had been good to triumph, and even better to see the stunned look in his eyes when he admitted to being Sai. But the reminder of NetGo told him that there was another world of players out there--more players to fight and defeat. The knowledge that they couldn't automatically acknowledge his superiority stuck in his craw. He was the best. He could have played with the gods.

He turned on the computer. After pulling off his coat, he sat in front of the screen, which started to flicker with white patches. "Will you stop that!" he muttered. Abruptly, the flickering ceased. Good, he wasn't about to tell his mother that he needed to get a new monitor--not so soon after the last upgrade, too.

He looked through the Go records. Committed them to memory. He would show them. He was the best. After all, he was Sai. Wasn't he?

*****

"And you're only telling me this now?" He made sure his voice sounded irritated; it wouldn't do to let Shindou think that he was getting off easy from his airhead tendencies.

"I remembered it just now," Shindou's voice came across, heavy with aggrieved overtones, even through a long-distance connection. "I promised Nakamura-san to tutor him for the tournament before I even made the arrangements to come to Beijing. He's a friend of Kawai-san. Er, it's okay, right?"

He gave a small sigh. "You're lucky I don't have any games today," he said. "What time?"

Shindou's grin could be heard even over the phone, Touya swore inwardly. "Two in the afternoon! Oh, I know you don't have any games today. Let's see... you were tutoring at the salon yesterday... you have the study session tomorrow afternoon, and the day after, you have a game with Kurogawa-sensei. I'm right, aren't I, Akira?"

There was a little hiss of static that made Shindou's voice break up into a husky growl when he said the name 'Akira,' he noted.

"Akira?"

There it was again. "What?" he asked.

"Oh yes, and sometimes Nakamura-san's early,” Shindou went on, skipping to a different topic, seemingly without warning. “He is the one who’s losing his hair at the sides, by the way. He always wears a suit. He sometimes ends up making funny moves, so er, you'd have to deal with that." A pause. "His Go, I mean."

"I'm aware that you're talking about Go, Hikaru," Touya said crisply. "How is it that you can remember all this, but you can't remember that you have an appointment with him?"

"I don't know? Ha, ha. Er. Heh. Oh, the driver's hailing us. I've got to go now."

"You owe me, Shindou Hikaru," he said.

"Three games once I get back, loser has to buy dinner for the winner?"

"I'm not eating any more ramen."

"Who says you're going to win?"

****(Moonlight Go)****

They say the full moon brings madness.

Certainly the visitors to the park would have thought so, were they less preoccupied with the usual pursuits of the traditional Mid-Autumn Festival. Small children delighted in the opportunity to carry lighted lanterns, while teenagers set off fireworks. Adults poured out fragrant tea and cut mooncakes into wedges. Older folks talked of current affairs. Still others tried solving riddles, or admired the full moon and remarked on the improved state of the air quality in the city these days.

Two men were playing Go.

The pavilion, one of dozens scattered in the park, was lit by large red, yellow and green lanterns. The decorations added to the mood of festivity, but the two men ensconced within did not seem to be aware of the sounds and colours around them.

"Hikaru! There you are!" A middle-aged woman approached the pavilion.

One of the players raised his head. He looked to be about eighteen years old or so; from a distance, the only striking feature about him was the yellow-blond fringe that hung over his eyes. "Mum?" he said.

"I was wondering where you were," she said, before she caught sight of his opponent. "Huang-san!" she greeted, stumbling over the unfamiliar sounds only slightly.

"Mrs. Shindou," the middle-aged man said in greeting. He was about forty years old, but looked older. His tie, dark silver with white stripes, was slightly loosened. "Good evening," he added in heavily accented English.

"Ah! Good evening!" She replied in the same language, looking just slightly embarrassed. She bowed a little. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked in equally laboured English.

"No need, thank you." He looked pointedly back at the Go board.

"I... Please continue playing," she said. "Hikaru," she added in Japanese, "Don't play for too long, Huang-san is a busy man." At her son's nod of assent, she smiled, and left the pavilion. Shindou Hikaru turned back to the Go board, ready to continue the game.

"You know, until today, I'd never have expected to play Go with a Japanese player," his opponent suddenly said.

Shindou did a double-take. "You... you speak Japanese, Huang-san?" he exclaimed.

A brief irritated look passed Huang's face. "Yes, I do. And I don't understand why I have to speak Japanese in my own country. You are the visitor here; you should speak Chinese."

"Er..." Shindou looked embarrassed. "I tried,” he said, “Isumi and Touya both tried to teach me. But I kept forgetting..."

"You Japanese are so arrogant, thinking that you're on top of the world and anyone who needs to deal with you must speak Japanese,” Huang retorted, glaring at him.

"Eh heh..." Shindou tried to laugh it off. "I never paid much attention when I was in school. The only subjects I did well in were sports and history." He paused, and looked at his opponent. "Huang-san. I understand that there are matters of contention between our countries, especially about the past. But this is Go. I'm sorry to sound selfish, but that is all I care about."

"You..." Huang looked outraged, and ground out, "You Japanese are all alike, so ignorant about your own history, and so wilful about it..." He shook his head. "Never mind. You're just a kid, so I won't pick a quarrel with you. At least your father is a good man. Not many Chinese like to work under a Japanese boss, you know. But he’s different."

"He’ll be pleased to hear you say that," Shindou said gravely.

"Huh." Huang contemplated the Go board. "I’ve heard from your father that you’re a particular fan of Honinbou Shuusaku’s Go. What’s the matter, our Chinese Go players not good enough for you? Go comes from China, after all."

Shindou raised his eyebrows, recalling the fish-eyed stare of an irascible old man who was also a Shuusaku fan. "Now, Huang-san, you’re trying to provoke me, aren’t you?" he asked. "It won’t work, here."

He placed a black stone on the Go board, effectively countering the man’s attempt to take over his group of stones. "I am a student of Shuusaku’s Go, that is true, but there is much to learn from all players," he said.

His opponent made a "che!" at his hand. "Never thought you would be this diplomatic," he said, slapping down a stone elsewhere.

Shindou replied almost immediately, and Huang’s eyes widened. "That takes care of that," he said, shaking his head lightly. "It is different playing with a pro," he considered, frowning. "By the way, if you’re interested in Shuusaku Honinbou," he went on, changing the subject entirely, "I came across a counterfeit Go board bearing Shuusaku’s names in an antiques shop the other day."

Shindou’s eyes narrowed. "Yes. I just saw another one that was about to be sold at the Tokyo Amateur Go Festival sometime back.  I asked the organizers to stop the sale immediately."

"Oh?  How did you know that it was a fake?  Most of them are quite well-made, bearing the correct signature of Shuusaku, as well as impressions of his seal."

"I've seen Shuusaku's handwriting before.  The Shuusaku Museum in Innoshima has a few of the Go boards he used when he was alive.  Shuusaku used many Go boards, though. Not every single one is in the museum; some are in private collections."

Huang nodded thoughtfully.  "It's still a difficult task to authenticate an antique based only on the signature," he said.  "There are a few old Go boards like that, floating about in Japan and China.  Some are genuine antiques, some are not, but it makes it confusing to sort the real ones from the fake ones."

Shindou's eyes flashed.  "I'm not going to let any dishonest merchant make money by misusing Shuusaku's name!" he declared.

Huang chuckled.  "Truly a fan of Shuusaku!" he remarked.  After studying the Go board for a longer pause, he inclined his head.  "I resign.  I don't think I can think of any more hands to counter yours."

His opponent shook his head.  "Oh, but if you played a hane here," Shindou pointed, his face eager with enthusiasm, "and connected here, and here, and kill my group of stones here... er.  Oh.  Thank you for your guidance."

"Go fanatic," Huang remarked, collecting his stones to replace them in the go-ke.  "It is a pleasure to play Go on such a beautiful night, Shindou-san," he said.  "Thank you for the game."

"Yes, it is," Shindou said, his eyes growing intent as he glanced around the park, as if noticing the playing children for the first time.

"You know, some Chinese believe that in the fifteenth night of the eighth month, the full moon is especially beautiful.  It is something to be admired with your loved ones."

Shindou looked up at the full moon, so large in the sky that it seemed especially close to earth, and nodded. "You're right, Huang-san."  He replaced the cover of his go-ke, and stood up.  "I believe my parents are expecting me.  Please excuse me," he bowed lightly, retrieving the Japanese-styled fan from the table before him, before he walked down from the pavilion.

Huang lighted a cigarette slowly, watching as the young pro joined his family.

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

6. Resonances

He'd been to the Dougenzaka a few times; the first time he went there, accompanied by Shindou, he had nearly been mobbed by Shindou's well-wishers, among which, he was assured, also included his fans. At the next visit and the next, things were mellower, but he still stepped into the salon with a bit of trepidation.

The owner's eyes widened in surprise as he recognized him.  "Ah, Touya-sensei!  What a surprise!"

Touya greeted him and explained Shindou's request.

"Of course, of course!" the owner nodded, then raised his voice and yelled across the salon.  "Oi, Nakamura-san, your tutor's here!"

A man in his mid-forties, wearing a slightly rumpled business suit, stood up.  "But I just heard from Kawai-san that Shindou is in China..." he muttered, before he saw Touya. "Touya-sensei!" he exclaimed.

Various heads around the salon looked up in unison.  Touya was not unused to public attention, but he preferred not to attract it.  He started to make his way towards Nakamura-san, who stood frozen.  As he got near, Touya noticed someone familiar by the corner.  Unlike the other patrons in the salon, he had not even looked up at the exclamation of 'Touya-sensei'.  With a start, Touya recognized Waya Yoshitaka, one of Shindou's closest friends and fellow student in Morishita-sensei Go-study's sessions.  He hadn't realized that Waya frequented the Dougenzaka, too.  The other pro looked preoccupied, so Touya decided to let him be.

He made his way to where Nakamura-san was still standing, and bowed, "Pleased to meet you," he said.  "I'm Touya Akira.  I'm a friend of Shindou, and as he's away at the moment, he asked me to come here on his behalf.  I hope you'll excuse my presumption..."  He bowed again.

Behind him, Touya could hear one patron mutter to another, "Shindou was never this polite..."

Nakamura-san recovered from his surprise and bowed, as well.  "Sensei!  I'm honoured to have you here." 

"Shindou said you were preparing for the Tokyo Amateur Go Tournament?"  Touya noticed that several of the other patrons were turning around to watch the encounter.

The other man nodded vigorously.  "Right, right!" he agreed, then turned to the table behind him.  "Please have a seat, Sensei."

*****

"I hear that Shindou's parents are in Beijing?" Nakamura-san asked as they gathered up their stones.

Touya nodded.  "Shindou said that his father was transferred there because he had learnt some Chinese in university," he explained.  It was rare for Japanese companies to send employees with established family commitments to overseas postings, but apparently Shindou-san had thought it a good opportunity to further his career. 

"He'll be back soon, won't he?"  One of the watching patrons asked.

"Yes," Touya said. "He only took leave for ten days," he went on.  Replacing the cover of the go-ke, he bowed to Nakamura-san.  "Thank you for the game."

"Oh, no!  Thank you, Touya-sensei!" Nakamura-san bowed in return. 

"Shindou asked me to wish you good luck for the tournament on his behalf," Touya added.  Shindou had said nothing like that, of course, but it was expected, and Touya was adept at covering up his terrible social skills.  The things I do for your reputation, Hikaru.  "And for myself, I wish you the best too."

Nakamura-san laughed.  "If even Touya-sensei wishes me good luck, then I'll be sure to do well!" he said, while the other watchers laughed as well.  He bade them goodbye after that, smiling broadly at the boisterous words of encouragement given by the other players.

Touya got up, and saw that Waya was still seated at the corner, laying out a game. Seeing where his gaze fell, one of the patrons, a balding man in a grey sweater, said, "That's Shindou's friend. You know him, right?"

"Yes."  Waya looked preoccupied with the Go board before him.

"He's been coming every afternoon since he lost to that kid.  I think he's hoping that the kid will turn up again," the man said.

Touya turned to look at the speaker directly.  "What kid?" he asked.

"Uh... not really a kid, I guess," the man shrugged.  "About Shindou's age, I would say.  Seems like he's been playing at several Go-salons in Tokyo.  Seems to be quite good.  Heard that he's claiming to be someone called Sai."

Taken aback, Touya could only repeat, "S...Sai?  But..."  He frowned, and turned to walk towards Waya.

As he approached, the game on the Go board caught his attention.  The shape of the territories, the concentrated fight on the upper left... Touya felt his heartbeat quicken.  The basic moves were familiar enough, but their placement to secure the maximum advantage verged on genius.  This was not an ordinary game.  "Who played Black?" he asked.

Waya gave a start, and looked up.  His eyes narrowed a little, but he said, "I did.  White was a boy called..."  He had to stop and think.  "Isobe Hideki," he finally said.

"Is he the one calling himself Sai?" Touya asked.

"How did..." Waya shrugged.  "Yes.  That was what he said, when I asked him."

"Surely you don't believe that?"

Waya shook his head.  "I don't know what to believe.  It's one thing to be defeated, even by an amateur, but to be defeated by this game..." 

Even without elaboration, Touya knew what he meant.  It was positively surreal to look at this game.  Go players played by reading hands, by calculating the possible ramifications of each hand, but they also played on instinct, by pattern recognition. He had not seen a game with patterns like those for a long time.  Even Shindou at his most nostalgic...

"Look, I know you know about Sai too," Waya said, interrupting the flow of Touya's thoughts.

"Excuse me?" Touya said, unsettled.  Did Waya also...

"Sai.  You played with him before, right?  You even missed the first day of your pro exams to play with him, even though he was just a NetGo player.  Do you think this is Sai?"

"It is hard to tell.  The skill level of a player can change after a while."  Touya didn't know what to think.  It resembled Sai's moves, but that couldn't be.

"It looks more like Shuusaku's games than Sai's games, though," Waya said. "See, here," he pointed to the Go board.  "He should have used 'pincer' instead of 'diagonal' here, but Shuusaku would have used 'diagonal', because they didn't have komi then.  But he played 'diagonal'."

The discrepancy only made Touya frown harder. If there was someone out there using Shuusaku's moves but calling himself Sai, why would he play like this, in this day and age?

"I've been trying to figure it out, and I think Isobe-san will come by one of these days.  I want to play with him again... Wait, why are you here anyway?" Waya asked, a note of curiosity entering his voice.

"Shindou asked me to come and play with one of his friends here," Touya said, his attention still on the Go board.

"It's you again!"

The loud exclamation made both of them look towards the counter. Waya muttered, "It's him," and before Touya could react, had stood up and was striding in that direction.  Touya decided to follow.

The target of the exclamation was another teenager about Touya's age, dressed in a high school uniform.  He had curly hair, a round face and a rather petulant expression.  The smirk on his face as he saw Waya turned speculative when he spotted Touya.

"You!" he pointed, a hand outstretched at him directly.  "You're Touya Akira, aren't you?"

Several heads in the salon looked up at that, and loud mutters of "hey, kid!" could be heard.

Faced with that accusatory look, Touya only nodded.  "Yes, I am," he said.

The boy grinned.  It didn't look friendly.  "I've been looking to play with you!" he declared.

Touya glanced at Waya, who looked furious to be ignored in this fashion.  "Are you the one who's been saying that you're Sai?" he asked.

The boy's eyes narrowed.  "My name is Isobe Hideki. Are you going to play with me, or are you scared?" he demanded.

Louder mutters of displeasure rose from the other patrons. Even for the casual atmosphere of the Dougenzaka, that was extremely rude, not to mention childish.  Touya was unmoved.  He only inclined his head--clearly not in a bow--and turned a little towards the playing area.  "If you don't mind, I would be glad to play with you," he said in his most formal tones.

"Huh."  The boy strode, pushing past Waya, and sat down at an empty table. Touya sat down opposite him.  As if by unspoken agreement, the patrons of the salon, including Waya gathered round to watch.

Touya was trying not to feel a sense of déjà vu.  He was once again sitting opposite to a boy his age, with whom he had just volunteered to play a game, and he was telling himself not to underestimate his opponent.  Before he met Shindou, challengers like this one appeared with distressing regularity, but they'd disappeared once he became a pro.  Before he met Shindou... something nagged at the back of his mind at that thought, but try as he might, he couldn't pin it down. He pushed the distraction away and prepared to nigiri.

The boy was staring at him with a rather dreadful look of eagerness. Touya concealed a frown.  If he was expecting Touya to show any sign of nervousness or discomfort, he would be in for a long wait.  Even before he met Shindou, Touya had developed his game face well enough to mislead more than a few adult players.  Before he met Shindou... Touya gave a tiny mental shake of this thoughts and released his handful of stones on the Go board.  Even.  He got white.  "Please give me your guidance," he said, and prepared to start the game.

The boy frowned harder.  "Please give me your guidance," he finally said, and they started playing.

Thirty minutes later, Touya gave up his battle with the déjà vu.  It was clearly coming on loud and clear, and with memories of that first match beginning to nag at his concentration, it was better to let them flow through his mind and let the familiar sequence relax him.  After a few seconds, though, he found that there was an unexpected benefit to having such a strong memory of that encounter.  He could spot the differences.  Isobe did play like the Shindou of that time, full of expert moves and clever strategy.  Touya had moved aggressively as soon as he sensed the boy attempting to test his strength, forcing Isobe to marshal new defenses.  He was not the Touya who'd underestimated Shindou because Shindou couldn't even hold the stones properly. 

What was strange was that Isobe did not play like most of the Go players who had learnt Go from a teacher, or in a Go class.  More than Shindou, he played like Shuusaku, and that, in itself, would have disconcerted Touya any other day.  But unlike the excitement he had felt when playing with Shindou, the very existence of this bout with the boy left him with a intense feeling of disappointment.  He felt cheated somehow, as if the twelve-year-old Shindou he was expecting had been replaced by a dummy who bore the skills of Shuusaku Honinbou, but who failed to make them sparkle.

He placed a stone to connect the territory in the upper right, and only part of him was dismayed when the boy managed to cut it with a hand that strengthened his own territory at the same time.  It was almost a test: when he attacked with a bold hand, the swift retribution came, through the capture of his stones.  He was being out-thought by someone who seemed to have the entire database of Shuusaku's games at the tips of his fingers.  And he watched, almost as though it was someone else's game, as black dominated the entire Go board. 

Touya's first games with Shindou had been with a Go player who played so much like Shuusaku that the latter might as well had been transported magically to the modern world.  His game with Sai on the Internet showed him a player who had all of Shuusaku's moves and numerous modern innovations. 

Isobe's play was so much like Shuusaku that Touya expected to find himself back in time anytime. But there were none of the use of modern moves that fitted so seamlessly with Shuusaku's Go. 

Touya took a deep breath to control his feelings of dismay.  Yes, déjà vu.  "I've lost," he said, dropping a handful of stones on the Go board to signal the end of the game.

It was an education to watch the boy's droopy expression turn to one of obnoxious superiority.  Irrelevantly, Touya reminded himself to school his own expression so he would not cause the same offense to his future opponents.  "This proves that I'm better than you," the boy said.  "You've lost to me," he said with a hectoring tone.  He pointedly left it at that.  Murmurs from the watching patrons grew at that.

Touya tried not to react, as he watched the boy collect his stones to put into his go-ke.  His mind raced. How could this boy play claim to be Sai?  Wait... "You are not Sai," he said, suddenly turning his gaze to gloating boy.

The boy froze in the middle of clearing up his stones. "What?" he retorted.

"You are not Sai," Touya repeated.  "I have played with Sai before."  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Waya give a start.

The boy narrowed his eyes.  "What do you know?" he sneered.

Touya set his hands down on the top of the go-ke, calming himself.  "You're right.  I don't even know who you are." Nobody really knew who the boy was.

For some reason, his words seemed to upset the boy greatly.  Slapping a hand on the table beside the Go board, the boy stood up, upsetting his chair, which fell to the floor with a clatter.  All voices stopped in the salon as everyone looked up.

"You don't know who I am?" the boy said, his voice loud in the salon. "I'm Isobe Hideki, and... I... I'm Sai!  I beat you at NetGo!  I beat you at this!"  He slapped the table hard for emphasis, making the stones still on the Go board jump.

Everyone seemed shocked at the outburst, judging by the utter silence in the salon.

The boy was still glaring at him, looking as though he would like nothing better to strangle Touya.  "You don't remember me, do you?" he said finally.

"Excuse me?" Touya asked, wondering what he meant.

Isobe sneered fiercely, his face twisting into an ugly mask.  "The great and mighty Meijin's son, Touya Akira, who was too good to complete with the rest of us... You aren't that special. You'll never beat me."  With another sneer, Isobe turned and left the salon, ignoring all the other customers who were scowling at him.

Touya stared after him, too astonished to be insulted, or even to stop him from leaving.  Taunts about him being his father's son had tapered off as he grew older, and had all but stopped since he became a pro.  Even more so after his father retired.  So why had Isobe asked if Touya remembered him?  Had Touya played him before?  He stared at the Go board, thinking about the boy and his possible relationship to Sai.  Was the boy one of those who had lost to Sai on NetGo?  In that case, there was no reason for him to make a point of pretending to be Sai.  Perhaps he was the one who had pretended to be Sai on the Internet a few years ago... but that still didn't explain his remarks about 'the Meijin's son.'  It used to be a phrase he heard often.  Even before he met Shindou.  Before he met Shindou... oh.  He heard himself whisper, "It's him?"

"Who do you mean?  Do you know him?" Waya, who was the only standing close to enough to hear, asked him.

"I remember now," he said, comparing the boy who had just left with his memory of another boy who had the same distinctive drooping eyelids, the curly hair...  "I was twelve.  He said he'd won the Children's Meijin Competition, and I played a game with him," he said slowly.  "It was... before I met Shindou."  It was the day right before he actually met Shindou, he realized.  "No wonder he kept looking at me like that.  He was expecting me to remember him.  Strange..."

"You defeated him."  There was no question in Waya's voice about that.

"Um."  Touya stood up.  "Excuse me," he said to Waya and the other patrons.  "It's late... I need to go back."

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

7. A Future So Bright

Sai!"

Touya opened his eyes. Shindou was sitting up in bed, evidently having just woke himself up, if the disorientated expression was anything to go by. " 'Morning, Hikaru," he said.

Shindou rubbed his eyes. "Ah. Akira. Morning." His sleep-roughened voice sounded less so with each word, and his recently washed hair stuck out in all directions.

He was trying to sound casual, Touya noted. "Did you have a dream?" he asked.

"Ahh." Shindou climbed out of bed. "I'll go and wash my face,” he said, turning away from Touya, but he wasn’t in time to hide the vulnerable look in his eyes.

Touya set his jaw, and got out of bed as well, choosing to give Shindou a little time while he tidied the room. Shindou was always slightly subdued when he had dreamed about Sai, he knew. That done, he made his way downstairs, where Shindou was sitting at the kitchen, his face dripping with water and still looking slightly dazed. His hair was messier than ever. Touya would have snickered, but he only tossed a towel over, and went to take a shower.

****

(The evening before.)

He heard Shindou grumbling good-naturedly to himself about misplacing his keys before he opened the door.

"Akira!" Shindou said, blinking at him from behind his blond hair. "Not that I'm complaining, but what are you doing here?"

"Welcome back. We arranged to have dinner together, remember?" He was used to Shindou's bouts of forgetfulness. It was difficult to get angry at someone who was so earnest about Go and so clueless about everything else.

Shindou beamed. "Ramen?" he enquired hopefully.

"Yes," he said. Really, there was something positively abnormal about Shindou's love for ramen. But on this occasion, he chose to indulge Shindou.

"Yes!" Shindou crowed, and let go of his suitcase long enough to give him a one-handed hug. Knowing what was going to happen next, Touya raised a hand in time.

“I’ve so much to tell… um!” Shindou straightened and frowned, rubbing his lips. “Next time, I’m going to bite,” he declared.

“In front of your own doorstep?” Touya asked, wiping his wet palm coolly on Shindou’s sleeve. He turned and walked in the direction of the kitchen. “Come in unless you want your ramen to get cold,” he said over his shoulder.

Shindou grumbled and began dragging his suitcase into the house.

He ate (devoured, to use the precise term) and went to take a shower after that. Touya took a deep breath to fortify himself for what he was about to do, and removed the covers of the go-ke holding the white and black stones. He began laying out the stones methodically.

"Eh?" Shindou appeared, towelling his hair, his eyes irresistibly drawn to the Go board on the floor, and the game laid out there. "When did you play that?" he asked.

"A few days ago, with someone I met at the Dougenzaka," Touya said. "Remember you asked me to play with Nakamura-san on your behalf?"

"Him?" Shindou's forehead creased in concentration. "Yeah, I remember. I hope he did well at the tournament," he commented, still scrutinizing the board. "Akira..." he said after a second. "You lost?" He sat down in his astonishment.

"Yes." The admission of his defeat was easy, compared to what he was about to tell Shindou. "Huh." Shindou turned his gaze onto the Go board, before he looked up at Touya. "You're not upset?" he asked carefully. "I mean, you hardly ever lose."

Touya appreciated the effort he was making to be comforting, but… "Shindou," he said, using his best 'official' voice. "Look at the game again."

His brow wrinkling, Shindou looked at the Go board, his eyes following the progress of the game rapidly. He knew Touya's game well enough to guess at the sequence of the hands, and... Touya knew he had seen it when Shindou gave a sharp intake of breath.

"That's impossible..." Shindou said. "Who played this game with you?" he leant forward, his hands falling from the towel still tangled among his hair. A drop of water splashed onto a white stone on the Go board. Touya idly noted that it was the hand he'd used, unsuccessfully as it turned out, to counter Isobe's 'cut' in the lower right.

"It can't be..." Shindou went on. "These hands... Who played with you?” he demanded.

“A boy, an amateur player who has been going around Go-salons lately,” Touya said.

“But…” Shindou hesitated for a moment. “But he’s…” His composure broke.

Touya moved to his side, closing an arm around him and willing him to calm down. "Hikaru," he said. "It was a boy named Isobe Hideki."

Shindou looked at him. At close range, his eyes seemed to be impossibly wide. "Where does he live? I've got to find him! Akira?" he implored.

"It's not Sai." He didn’t know what made him say that, except that some part of him had to deny it, in preparation for the next part of his news. “Is it?” he asked, making his tone a challenge. He pulled the damp towel from Shindou’s head, not flinching at the cold drops of water from his hair. “Is it?” he repeated.

Shindou started to shake his head before he realized what he was doing, but his expression hardened with determination in the next moment. "Where is he, Akira?" he asked again.

"Shindou!" He shook the other man a little. "It's not Sai," he repeated, looking into Shindou's bright eyes. "All right?" He held his breath, waiting for Shindou's reply.

The look in Shindou's eyes looked fragile for a moment. It disappeared after a few seconds; Shindou was one of the strongest people he knew. He was brash and sometimes forgetful, but never weak. "How do you know that?" he asked, his voice calmer.

"I’ve played with him, remember? His name is Isobe Hideki," Touya said. “If you like,” he said, “I’ll tell you where to find him tomorrow. But not right now. It’s late.” He heard Shindou’s murmur of protest. “It is late,” he insisted. “I doubt Isobe-san will appreciate you rushing there at this hour.”

Shindou calmed down at that, his arms even snaking around Touya to return the embrace. “Isobe, huh…” he muttered. “I've heard that name before... oh!" His mouth fell open in astonishment. "This game, it was with him?" he asked, freeing his hands to point to the Go board.

It was Touya's turn to be astonished. "Do you know him?" he asked. Of all the reactions he had thought of, this one was not among them.

"I played with him. The day before I left for Beijing. I was going to meet you at the salon, and he turned up saying he wanted to play with Touya Akira," Shindou said. "He didn't play like this. It isn't him, then," he said in a voice of realization. Disappointment made his face look haggard, and it made Touya ache to listen to the soft recital of words from him. "He played Tange, and defeated him..." Shindou continued. "I ended up playing with him. I remember thinking that he played like Sa... like Shuusaku. But he was not so strong." He glanced to the Go board. "Not like this."

"I see..." Touya said, sitting down beside him, both of them facing at the Go board, then told him about having played Isobe as a child. "I remember thinking at that time that his skill was average, with the same type of hands taught in classes and by most pros." Unless one was taught by Shindou, who taught in a distinctly unconventional manner. "And I was just thinking," he said, deliberately making his voice sound casual, "even if he had improved greatly, especially by practicing Shuusaku's games, wouldn't he still retain a little of the modern play?"

"Um." Shindou studied the Go board. After a long while, he pointed hesitatingly at the stones on the Go board. "Those are Shuusaku's favourite moves, but they would be too slow if you had komi," he said of the hands in the upper right. "Funny," he said, the curiosity in his voice replacing devastation, "It looks like he has gotten stronger since I played him, and still it's all Shuusaku's play."

"Stronger?"

"It was odd," Shindou said. His voice was louder, back to its normal volume. "He'd start to attack, but after a while he seemed to forget what he was doing and didn't follow up on the attack. That was why I won our game, I think. Of course, he wasn't the only person who was familiar with Shuusaku's moves, and I made use of that." He looked at the Go board as though it contained hidden fangs. "You couldn't do that here. He was guarding his stones very closely."

"No, I couldn't." Touya hesitated, and decided to go for broke. "There's a rumour going around about him since you've been away. That was why I decided to show you this game..." he said, raising his eyes to meet Shindou's. "He claims to be Sai."

Shindou froze. "What?" he whispered.

"Waya played with him too. He lost, and he asked Isobe-san if he was Sai. Isobe-san said he was."

"Impossible! He... He's an impostor!" And with that, Shindou got to his feet.

Touya grabbed his elbow. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

"I'm going to find Isobe and question him, of course!"

"And just where do you think you'll find him? He only goes to Go-salons on afternoons." The abrupt change in Shindou's moods would have made him laugh, in any other situation. Only Shindou would demand to find a Go player one moment simply because he thought it was Sai, and actually rush off to find him again the next moment because it wasn't. His emotions changed as rapidly as the reflections in water.

"But..."

"I wanted to tell you first. Rumours about him have spread even more rapidly in the last few days since I played with him."

“Because you lost?”

He nodded. After a moment Shindou sat down again. “Are you upset? You aren’t going to chase after him now, are you?” he asked.

Touya couldn’t help it. He gave a snort.

****

(The next morning.)

When he came out from the bathroom, Shindou was in the kitchen, looking more like himself. He had set the kettle to boil and was staring at the contents of the refrigerator. There was a pot on the stove, its contents bubbling noisily. When his mother knew that her husband had been transferred to China and that they would be leaving Shindou in Tokyo all by himself, she had, to quote Shindou, gone into 'an absolute panic, worse than when she found out about us,' about Shindou starving himself from neglect and insisted that he learn to cook. "Miso soup and rice?" he muttered, and glanced over at the rice-cooker; luckily, they'd remembered to set the timer the night before.

"Do you have a game today?" Touya asked, sitting down.

"Nope." Shindou began to scoop the rice into bowls. "I'm going to look for that Isobe guy," he said. "I know he's not..." he stopped, his voice cracking just as Touya turned to him, "but I think I should see him again. There's something..."

"Hikaru..."

Shindou shook his head. "I'm fine," he said, sitting down opposite him. "I just need to know. Where can I find him, do you know?"

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

8. Neck to Neck Over the Horizon

Ochi Kosuke had picked up Go skills from watching his grandfather play, and had shown an extraordinary aptitude for it for as long as he could remember. Setting his sights on the pro world, he had learnt of the boy prodigy, Touya Akira, and it was a setback eventually to realize that the latter was every bit as talented as the rumours claimed.  Nevertheless, he had been confident that one day, he would be a match for Touya Meijin's son.

Shindou Hikaru burst into his Go world like the light he was named for.  Ochi had not taken him seriously at first, but the older boy's Go improved far more quickly than he ever predicted was possible.  Shindou's declaration of rivalry with Touya Akira only served to fire up a spirit of competition in him, fueled by a growing sense of injustice over even Touya's preoccupation with the upstart. Shindou passed his pro exams that same year, though. Esteemed players such as Kuwabara-sensei and Ogata-sensei turned up to watch his Beginner Dan's game, a game in which Touya Meijin had designated him as opponent. He waited while Shindou missed his games; he watched when Shindou returned to Go and played an incomparable game of Go to become one of Japan's representatives for the Hokuto Cup tournament. 

And so they found their respective paths in the Go world.  Now, he had lost to a mere amateur. It shouldn't bother him this much--the boy did not deter his path in rising in the Go world--but how was his Go to improve if he lost to an amateur?

The housekeeper knocked at the door, interrupting his thoughts.  "Shindou-san to see you," he said.  "He's in the sitting room."

Ochi nodded, stood up and walked downstairs.  Shindou was sitting there, thanking the maid for the cup of coffee she had just placed on the table.  "Shindou," he said, sitting down opposite him. For some reason, he was remembering his tutoring sessions with Touya during his pro exams.  Touya Akira had sat there in the same serious way, painfully neat in his suit as he showed Ochi game after game. Touya had shown him three games by Shindou, Ochi recalled suddenly.  Extraordinary games--he had hardly believed Shindou possible of them, at that time.  He could believe it now.

"Ochi," Shindou said, his voice soft and boyish, a smile on his face. "Hi."  He wore no suit: only a yellow T-shirt and casual black pants. 

"I heard that you were in China," he said.

"I came back yesterday," Shindou said.  "Oh!" he indicated a neatly wrapped package on the table.  "A little gift for you and your grandfather.  I hope you don't mind."

"So formal, Shindou," Ochi felt vaguely amused. Was this a Touya-effect?

Shindou looked embarrassed.  "It's just tea," he mumbled.

"You don't have to be that polite with me," Ochi said.  "After all, I know what you're really like," he commented acidly.  "We were insei once, remember?"

"Careless, impulsive, and boastful?" Shindou asked, the glint in his eyes turning mischievous for a moment.

"It's so good to have self-knowledge, Shindou," Ochi said, aware of the scowl on his face as he pushed his glasses further up his nose.  "But what do you want?"

Shindou sobered immediately.  "Have you heard of someone named Sai?" he asked.

"The NetGo player who was so popular some years back?  I've seen a few kifu of his games online," Ochi said, confused. He admired Sai's games but was not overly concerned about the player's mysterious identity.  Since Sai was not in the world of pro Go, there was no need to pay too much attention to him.

Shindou nodded.  "You played with Isobe Hideki," he said, suddenly changing the topic.

Ochi could feel himself scowling at the name. "What about it?"

"I played with him once, too, before I left for China," Shindou said.  "I won."

A part of Ochi was resisting the urge to grind his teeth at that tidbit.

"He was very good then," Shindou went on.  "But he never said that he was Sai. However, since I came back to Japan, I've heard that he's telling everyone that he was Sai."

Ochi struggled to rein in his temper.  "He could hardly have lost to you and claimed he was Sai at the same time," he snapped.

Shindou took a deep breath.  "The temptation to pass yourself off as someone stronger is a very strong one, you know," he remarked with forced casualness.  "If there was a way of doing so undetected, I think not many people could resist the temptation."

Ochi raised his head.  "In case you're wondering, he didn't say that when I played with him, either.  However," he paused to push his glasses up his nose again, "that is something I would never do.  What's the difference between doing that and outright cheating?"  He had come very close to it once, when he accepted Touya's help to defeat Shindou at the pro exams: he had tried to make Shindou think that he had Touya's expertise, and Touya's knowledge of Shindou's game, at his fingertips.  Never again would he depend on another player in the same way again.  "Only weak people do that," he said, remembering how he had acted then.

"I do not think that Isobe-san is weak," Shindou said. "I asked him about Sai, you know."

"What?" Talking to Shindou and his sudden changes of subject tended to give Ochi a headache.

"I have his address.  I went to see him this morning," Shindou gazed into the distance, his normally brilliant eyes muted with thought.  "I said to him, 'I heard that you're calling yourself Sai.  Why did you do that?' "

"What did he say?" Ochi asked, overcome by curiosity.  "Is he really Sai?"

"He said I couldn't prove that he wasn't Sai," Shindou said.  He looked puzzled and angry.

"Oh?" That was an intriguing answer.  "What do you think?  Is he Sai?"

"I played with him again."

From Shindou's expression, the results had not been satisfactory.  Ochi frowned.  Could it be that even Shindou lost to him this time?

"He resigned after twenty hands," Shindou said.  "It was far too early to decide who was winning... and I don't think I actually won.  He was trying to avoid me.  But the way he was playing... Ochi."

"What is it?"

Shindou met his eyes, his face earnest and honest.  "Will you show me your game with him?"

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

9. Some Nets Cast Wider

"It's Ogata," Shindou said, grabbing Touya's wrist to get his attention. "Over there," he pointed to the opposite side of the street. Touya narrowed his eyes. "With… Isobe-san?"

They had just left the study session with Serizawa-sensei, a prolonged one because they had been discussing Ko Yong-ha's newest game. Shindou and Touya were still arguing about the hands Ko had used in the endgame, when Shindou spotted the newest sensation in the amateur Go world.

"You don't think…" Shindou said, watching the two of them walking along together. Isobe had stuck both hands in his coat jacket, and even across the busy street he could see the annoyed expression on his face. Ogata's expression was even easier to read: it retained the same petulant insistence the pro player had displayed when he was drunk and had demanded to play with Sai. It was suddenly incredibly easier to guess what Ogata had in mind. "Oh, shit," he muttered.

Touya glanced at him, coming to the same conclusion almost immediately. "Over there," he pointed to a pedestrian crossing just ahead and nudging him towards it.

Shindou let himself be guided forward while he craned his neck to keep track of the two's progress over the busy traffic. "Can't see them, too many cars," he said. "I've got a bad feeling about this. I thought Isobe dropped out of action after the last time I went to see him."

"Shindou, you only went to see him once, and you said he denied everything."

"Yeah. He was more interested in showing off his stuff to me. His expensive computer, his expensive Go board, his expensive collection of ancient Go books… Che! Played with him, but his game didn't show much, he resigned before we even got started. But Waya said he hadn't seen him around anymore. And he checked the NetGo site too; no one claiming to be Sai, there." Shindou's tone was deliberately careless, but he shifted impatiently from foot to foot until the crossing lights blinked green; without a thought he gripped Touya's hand and towed him across the street in his hurry. On the other end of the crossing, he looked around wildly. "Huh? Where did they go? I thought I saw them coming this way."

"Is that why you've been looking up all the players he's played with these few weeks?" Touya seized the opportunity to ask. Shindou had been uncharacteristically quiet about his visit to Isobe's home.

"I want to know what kind of player he is, other than the Shuusaku Go," Shindou said. "And since he won't play seriously against me…" He tugged Touya's sleeve urgently. "Touya, did you see where they went?" He was looking around like a lost child, or a puzzled animal, growing more frantic with each second; Touya expected him to start chasing his own tail any moment. The passer-bys, probably office workers on their lunch-time break from the shopping complex, stared at him. There was a stylized diagram showing the corner of a Go board, with a simple Go problem displayed on it, with the words "Tokyo City Go Parlour, #02-01" above it. Black five-two, Touya thought absently, looking up the slightly worn flight of stairs. He was sure that Ogata and Isobe had gone up there; it was the only Go salon around.

"Black five-two," Shindou said.

It took a second for Touya to realize that Shindou was, in fact, referring to the solution for the Go problem. "Upstairs, Shindou," he said, managing to swallow the retort, you twit, "There's a Go salon on the second floor."

Shindou blinked at him, his attention still on the diagram. "How did you know that?"

*****

Tokyo City Go Parlour wasn't very big, but from the look and smell of cigarette smoke, it was well patronized. Shindou and Touya ducked their heads from under the blue and white door covering at the entrance, and found themselves looking at a middle-aged man with a graying beard, which he stroked idly as he watched them. "Oi, this isn't an arcade," he said. "You've come to the wrong place." He stared at them for a moment. "If you've really come to play Go, though, you have to pay first," he tapped the cardboard sign on the reception desk in front of him, which listed the admission fees.

Nodding diffidently, Shindou scanned the inhabitants of the salon first. "Over there!" he said, pointing, nudging Touya.

Touya looked, and sure enough, it was Isobe and Ogata, sitting at one of the empty tables. He glanced at Shindou, who was beginning to make his way over.

"Oi! Even if you want to watch, you have to pay." The man called after Shindou, who gave no sign that he heard.

Really, just because Shindou played so often at the Douganzaka and his father's salon, it didn't mean he could ignore the need to pay when he turned up at other Go salons. Touya took out his wallet. "The two of us, please," he said to the man.

By the time he made his way over to them, Ogata and Isobe were already playing. It was another even game, Touya saw, glancing at Shindou's eyes following each hand intently. Ogata was white. He moved to stand next to Shindou, noticing as he did so that Isobe and Ogata had not even noticed them. Ogata he could understand; he had the extraordinary concentration that served him well as a pro, but Isobe… he felt a chill running down his back as he saw Isobe's blanked, determined face. Isobe had looked just like that when he played with Touya: his eyes watching the Go board as though he could swallow it whole, the corners of his mouth turned up in a frown, or a wince, as he slapped down stones without the least hesitation.

A few of the other patrons glanced at them curiously, but no one said anything as the game went on. And on. He felt, rather than sense the slight hitch of breath from Shindou at Isobe's most recent hand, and felt his own fingertips grow cold as he contemplated the layout of the stones so far. Shuusaku's game--he had anticipated that, yes, but it still didn't prepare him for the shock he felt as Isobe blocked, and attacked Ogata's attempts to control the upper right with almost insulting ease. They leapt right into a furious fight after that, one that was almost quaint by the level of ferocity and whole-board strategizing. Modern players usually preferred not to face off in a headlong fight like this one, but the style had been very popular, oh, one hundred and forty years ago or so.

Shindou's hand reached for, and found his, squeezing hard. Touya thought he understood the impulse, and returned the grip as tightly as he could. Shindou must be trying to control himself from interrupting, he thought. Touya was torn between curiosity at how the game would play out, and worry for Ogata. If this went on, there was a very good chance that Ogata could… that the Gosei, who had successfully defended his title for the last three years, could lose. And if he did, Touya sensed that it would not be a simple loss. He hoped he was not going to be witness Ogata's devastation, and squeezed Shindou's hand even more firmly, both their hands white-knuckled from the shared tension.

He glanced away from the Go board for a second to glance at Shindou, and his heart skipped as he recognized the considering look that was an indication of Shindou thinking many, many hands ahead. He's not the only one familiar with Shuusaku's games. And seeing the way Shindou's eyes flickered towards Ogata's outwardly calm demeanor, Touya though, he's seeing Ogata lose this game.

He watched as Isobe calmly cut into the middle of Ogata's shape. This was it. If Ogata replied with the wrong hand…

He gasped audibly as Ogata responded, seeing the game played out in his mind, Black using that mis-step to march past White, carrying the war past the enemy's borders. It was possible that Ogata hadn't seen it yet.

But as though his gasp had been a pre-arranged signal, Shindou sucked in a deep breath, extricated his hand from Touya's grip, and slammed both palms onto the table.

The slap of flesh on table echoed in the salon. Both players gave a start, the customers nearby glanced round irritably. Touya drew breath to speak, but Shindou only leant down and said, "Stop it."

He didn't speak particularly loudly, but to Touya's ears, all sound stopped for moment.

Ogata's face showed astonishment as he finally noticed them. "Shindou… and Akira?" he said. "What are the two of you doing here?"

Shindou's voice was soft, not out of discretion but from his earnestness. "You shouldn't continue, Ogata-san."

Isobe scowled at the interruption. "You two!" he exclaimed. "You have no right to interrupt our game."

Shindou ignored him, his attention still on Ogata. "Did you ask him to play with you because you thought he was Sai?" he asked.

Touya closed his eyes for a moment at that, and when he opened them, Ogata's eyes were narrowed, his attention wholly fixed on Shindou rather than Isobe. "How did you know that?" Ogata asked.

"I know that he calls himself Sai, for all that he denied it when I asked him," Shindou said. "You're not Sai," he said, straightening to face Isobe.

Isobe was pale, but with rage rather than dismay. "It's none of your business, Shindou Hikaru, whom I play with," he said. "I am Sai." A sly grin lighted his face. "The reason I didn't want to say anything when you visited that day was that I noticed how sensitive you were about Sai. You're like your friend Waya, who lost NetGo games to me, aren't you?" Shindou flushed red at that, and Touya stood closer to him. He noticed that a few of the patrons nearby had turned to look at them--probably wondering whether to chase them out for making a scene. Ogata had fallen silent and was watching the two of them.

"Don't you use Sai's name for your own gain," Shindou said, his voice low and soft.

Isobe scowled at his tone. "I am Sai," he said again. "I'll show you," he leaned forward to the next table, pulling it close, and removed the covers of the go-ke on top. "I'll show you proof." He shifted to the next table, and began to rapidly lay out a game.

Touya blinked as the game took shape. This was… It couldn't be. He looked at Isobe again, knowing that his expression was disbelieving. He really wasn't Sai, Touya told himself. But how did he… He glanced at Shindou, but to his surprise Shindou looked unconcerned, even a little bored.

As soon as the game was fully laid out, Shindou gave a soft snort of derision. "That's the NetGo game between Sai and Touya," he said, like he was identifying objects from a picture book. "And you," he reached out and firmly pushed a white stone two spaces to the left, "made a mistake here. Sai should have used a Crane's Move against Touya, but it was a plain crosscut, instead." He raised his chin challengingly. "You are not Sai. You may know about Sai's games, but you got them off the online archive for NetGo. They have a section devoted to Sai's games. Stop making use of Sai's name!"

Isobe glared. "How about this, then?"  He swept the game Shindou had just corrected off the Go board, and immediately laid out another. His glare seemed etched on his face: his eyes had taken on the sheen of the manically obsessed as he slapped the stones on the Go board so quickly that they skittered, like a wooden blocks too quickly assembled by a child.

"Shindou," Touya whispered, but there was no reply.

"Well?" Isobe asked, stopping and looking at Shindou with feverish triumph. "You might know of this game, then," he said with studied casualness, his eyes on Shindou. "You can't really tell by looking at the Go board, but halfway through, right after this hand," he pointed, "White accused Black of cheating. Even though the game went on, White had lost composure and resigned soon after. An interesting game, isn't it? Very old."

Touya reached out in time to wrap an arm around Shindou's shoulders when he swayed, and pulled him to a nearby seat. Shindou said nothing. Touya didn't know what else to say, or do.

Ogata's eyes had sharpened with curiosity.  "What is this game?" he demanded.

Isobe nodded towards Shindou. "Ask him. Ask him if Sai played it," he said, before he stood up. "Ogata-san. If you like, we can continue our game another day."

"Tomorrow," Ogata replied immediately, the frown deepening on his face as he looked at Shindou. "At Touya-sensei's salon. Do you know it?"

Isobe nodded. "That's fine," he said, and glanced at Shindou. "I hope you're convinced now," he said, and left.

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

10. Deepening Voices

Somehow, he managed to get Shindou home. After his first questions to Shindou went unanswered, Touya decided that they needed a quieter place to calm down. Perhaps the Touya residence was not the best place for it—his parents were back, after all—but Touya needed the assurance of his own home ground, too. It was nearly rush hour, and the subway was crowded. Touya dragged Shindou to a spot near the doors, letting him slump against the rattling walls of the train. He planted a palm on the wall, next to Shindou’s shoulder, making himself a barrier against the rest of the jostling crowd, and watched Shindou.

He hadn’t seen the game before, but he knew from Shindou’s reaction that it had to do with Sai. Few things hurt Shindou as much as the memory of Sai.

They reached the station and he led Shindou off the train, finding that if he walked slightly in front where he could be seen by a lightly bowed head, Shindou would follow him. He watched, carefully, out of the corner of his eye, at Shindou’s slightest steps. The walk to the Touya residence took twice as long, but they were there, finally, and Touya could see the light in the kitchen that showed that his mother, at least, was at home.

“I’m back,” he said, torn between wishing that his parents were still abroad, and gladness that they were home.

“Welcome ba- Akira?” His mother approached from the kitchen, her eyes widening as they fell on Shindou. “I thought you said the two of you were still staying at Hikaru’s place.” She took another step forward. “Hikaru-kun? Are you all right? You look pale.”

“He’s had a shock, but he’ll be all right,” Touya said, tugging Shindou’s arm for a second to get his attention. Almost automatically, Shindou kicked his shoes off, and inclined his head. “Touya-san, sorry for the intrusion,” he said.

Touya was relieved that Shindou appeared to be capable of talking, at least. And having to be polite at least chased some of the shock from his face. He took the opportunity to tell his mother, “We’ll be in my room, then,” before tugging Shindou again, and leading him down the main hallway.

Shindou’s face grew more alert when they reached his room. Touya pushed him onto the only chair in the room. His room was traditional Japanese style; the only western-style furniture was the computer desk and the chair for it, and Shindou always claimed the chair when he was there. “Akira?” Shindou looked around. “We’re at your place?”

Touya pulled off his jacket and hung it up carefully. “Yes.” Shindou, copying his motions, had shrugged out of his own garish-looking sports jacket, which Touya received and hung up too. “Sorry. I’d dragged us to the other train before I realized what I was doing,” he said. Maybe he was just a little shocked too, then.

Still sitting, Shindou reached out, his hands catching on the tails of Touya’s shirt and pulling him forward. He rested his forehead on Touya’s stomach. “Did I really meet Sai just now?” His voice cracked on the name.

His breath tickled. Touya squirmed a little. “If you thought you really did, you wouldn’t have been so shocked.”

Shindou hesitated, before raising his head to look into Touya’s eyes. “No,” he said. “For a moment I thought he was… and I felt so happy—just for a second. But it didn’t feel like Sai.” He released Touya, and looked down.

“Hikaru…” Touya sat down on the floor beside Shindou’s chair. “What was that game about?”

At first he thought Shindou was going to be mysterious again, but he only sighed, and said, “He showed me the game a long time ago.” Another long pause. “He played it when he was alive. He was white. It was the game he played before he died. There’s no one else alive who remembers that game. I think that’s why he showed it to me.”

“And the cheating?”

Shindou’s fists clenched. “He didn’t cheat!” he said. “It was his opponent who was hiding the white stones in his go-ke, yet the bastard accused him of cheating!”

Touya bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. “But Isobe said that White accused Black of cheating.”

“He’s wrong.” Shindou growled.

“You said… there’s no one else alive who remembers the game. But Isobe knew it.”

“Exactly. How could that kid know the game, but get that so wrong?” He stood up and began to pace. “There must be something…” he muttered, then turned round to Touya. “Do you think there could be a record of that game somewhere?”

“You’ve looked, before,” Touya reminded him of all the trips he had made to museums and collectors in Kyoto and Tokyo, to look for clues about Fujiwara no Sai of the Heian period.

“Yeah. He had so many books about Go in his room. Maybe one of them had the kifu for that game by accident?” He sat down next to Touya, his eyes hopeful.

“But that doesn’t explain how he knew that this game would upset you. And he’s got to know that it’s connected with Sai somehow.”

Shindou sighed and rested his head on Touya’s shoulder. “For a ghost that just came out of a Go board and whom no one else could see, there are certainly a lot of people who are curious about him.”

Before Touya could answer, there was a knock at his door. “Akira?” A polite voice asked.

Shindou sat up in alarm. “That’s your father!” he exclaimed.

As always, panic served as a great distraction; he almost sounded like himself once more, Touya thought as he went to answer it. “Father, you’re back,” he said.

His father was still in his suit. “I heard from your mother that you and Hikaru-kun came back just now.”

“Yes,” he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Shindou make ‘I’m not here!’ hand motions at him. Shindou was very good at denial when he wanted. He decided that Shindou needed a distraction anyway, and turned his head. “Hikaru, Father was just asking about you,” he said.

Shindou gave him a look before he approached the doorway. “Touya-sensei, how are you?” he bowed politely.

His father stared at Shindou. “Since you’re here, you might as well play a game with me. Come along.”

Touya watched as Shindou’s expression grew panicked again. “But! I haven’t had dinner! And perhaps you’d like to play with Touya… I mean, with Akira instead. He’s really so much better than me… Erm.” He gulped under the serious expression aimed at him. “Of course, Sensei. I’ll be happy to play a game with you.”

****

Shindou sped into their room, his speed reminiscent of someone escaping a hungry predator.

“How was the game?” Touya asked, then blinked at Shindou’s excited expression. “What happened?” It was unusual for Shindou to be so delighted about playing with his father.

“I’ve figured it out!” Shindou said. “It’s the Go board!”

After figuring out Shindou's incoherent explanation, he frowned.  "Are you trying to tell me that you think a ghost is responsible for Isobe-san's Go?  Like with you?" 

"It's possible," Shindou said, and sat down on the floor next to him.  Touya was in the middle of laying out the futon.  "Your father's Go board," he said.  "It's an antique, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Genuine kaya wood, too.  I got to thinking when I was playing with him," he said.  "I've asking those who played with Isobe to show me their games, and it just gets more and more puzzling.  A few times, his game was poor... I mean, it was good for an amateur, but poor compared to the Shuusaku Go he'd been playing at other times.  I thought, perhaps, he was just really, really good at memorizing games, and that was how he won his games.  Then, when I visited him, I noticed that he had an antique Go board.  I didn't think much of it because I thought he liked to show off, but when we played, I got the strangest feeling off it.  I thought it was just my sensitivity to Go boards..." He looked at Touya ruefully.  After all, he was the one who visited a certain Go board in a warehouse as regularly as one might visit a close relative. 

"And come to think of it, Isobe acted strangely too," Shindou went on.  "He wasn't acting smug at all. He played very reluctantly, and he resigned to avoid having to play with me for longer than necessary.  What do you think?"  He pushed his shoulder against Touya's, pressing for a response.

"Surely it's too much of a coincidence that there could be two Go boards in the world, both with ghosts that could attach to other humans and turn them into expert Go players?"  He asked after a while.

"One way to find out," Shindou said, his tone suddenly careless, and lying down on the half rolled-up futon.

"Oh, and what's that?"

Shindou tugged at him until they lay down next to each other, staring up at the ceiling.  "I'm going to play with him again. One more game, no holds barred.  Ogata-san will be there, and he won't dare to resign early, because he's Sai." Shindou pronounced the name with amusement this time.  "If it's another ghost, he should have his own name instead.  If there's no ghost, I'm going to make Isobe stop calling himself using that name."

"Sounds like you have already decided."

"I miss him so much, you know.  But Go is Go.  Go doesn't lie."  He tilted his head closer, so that his hair tickled Touya's cheek.  "And Go will decide all."

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

11. A Mad Spiral

They were at the salon the next day, as soon as it opened.

"We didn't have to come so early, you know," Touya said.  "Isobe-san is still in high school; he won't come until the afternoon."  They were sitting at their usual spot, though sunlight was filtering through the blinds, making the Go board on the table gleam gold.

Shindou, looking almost unlike himself due to the unfamiliar clothes--he was wearing Touya's button-down shirts and neat, ironed black pants--glanced around furtively, even though it was early and there was only Ichikawa at the counter.  "I wanted to avoid your father.  You know, he'll only ask me to play another game with him, and... er.  No offense meant."

“You’ve managed to think of really imaginative excuses before. I can’t see why you can’t think of another one this time,” Touya responded to the familiar complaint from sheer reflex. "How was the game last night, anyway?"

"He won by five and a half," Shindou said.  "He told me about this new amateur player... I nearly had a heart attack when I realized he was talking about Isobe-san!"

"Father knew about him, too?"

"That kid gets around," Shindou muttered, resting his elbows on the table.  "Ogata-san heard of him, too, remember?"  He sat up.  "Let's play a game, Touya."

****

Shindou was feeling pleasantly buzzed when afternoon came round.  He had played two games with Touya, before they broke for lunch, and Touya hadn't even said a word of protest when he led them to his favorite ramen stand behind the subway entrance.  Then they had gone back to the salon and played again.  It was almost like a holiday.

He sobered when he heard Ogata's voice, and raised his head over the other customers to see--of all people--Touya-sensei standing with Ogata, exchanging a polite greeting with Ichikawa at the counter.

"Ogata-san must be feeling very confident, to invite Father to watch a game which he is going to lose," Touya said suddenly.

Shindou glanced at him.  "Oh, you saw that?" he asked.  He reminded himself that Touya could read Go hands as rapidly as him--that was what made him such a good opponent.

Touya nodded, his eyes dark with thought.  "If he doesn't spot the trap Isobe-san set for him, and concentrates only on cutting the central group, then he has no chance," he said.

"It's a whole-board game," Shindou said.  "One hand can affect the entire game.  Anyway, spectators can see hands that the players can't, but sometimes the players can see possibilities no one else can.  I thought yesterday that Ogata-san was going to lose for sure... but maybe he'll think of something."  Touya-sensei and Ogata were sitting down, talking to some of the customers.

Anything else he wanted to say stuck in his throat when the door slid open again, and Isobe entered.

The scene before him seemed to be submerged under water suddenly, Shindou mused, as he watched Isobe-san being introduced to Touya-sensei, his jaw falling in astonishment.  Everything was in slow motion--so was he, Shindou thought bemusedly, as he took up his fan, stood, and walked over to where the kid and Ogata-san were laying out the game they had played the day before.  He was aware of Touya's exclamation of "Shindou!" but he didn't stop until he was standing in front of Isobe.

Isobe's lips rose in a smirk when he saw him.  "What do you want?" he asked.

"You are not Sai."

"What about the game I showed you yesterday?"

"It proves nothing.  Play with me again.  Your Go will tell me the truth."  He pushed the arranged Go board to one side, and arranged a new Go board between them. He laid his fan down on the table beside it.

"You're crazy."

"No, you're the one who's been claiming to be a NetGo player that stopped playing three years ago."  He met Isobe-san's eyes, which widened, then narrowed at his expression.  "Play with me."  He was dimly aware of the other customers starting to chide him for interrupting Ogata-san, and of Touya--his Touya--standing beside him, offering his support, but all his attention was on the curly-haired boy with a habitual smirk.

"All right," Isobe-san said.  You asked for it, was the unspoken retort.  "Ogata-san.  Is it all right if I play with Shindou-san first?"  Humour the madman, his tone implied.

A long pause, which ended in a soft sigh from Ogata.  "It's fine."  He stood up, offering Shindou's seat.  "Here, sit down."

Shindou could feel the tension in the air, and he rotated his shoulders unconsciously to relax the taut feeling in them. From the other end of the table, Isobe faced him with a smirk, but Shindou could sense the weight of another presence in the air—one that eager for battle—and despite expecting something like this, it frightened him too.

Touya watched him with concern, but there was the hint of a challenge in it too. It was as if Touya was saying, “Show me what you’re capable of, Shindou!”—he always said that when they met in an official match. Behind him, Touya-sensei was impassive, but Shindou could tell that he, too, was looking forward to watching the game. It was very quiet; most of the customers, either cowed by the atmosphere or quelled by Touya-sensei’s presence, hardly spoke among themselves.

Concentrating his thoughts, Shindou sat down, pulling the chair close very slowly that it made no noise; the crowd pressed a little closer, as though to muffle him from any outside influence. Isobe, though, dragged his chair roughly; the squeaking sound made Shindou jump, though he covered the movement by reaching out for the go-ke, preparing to nigiri. He got black.

Like the game with Ogata-san, they started with a whole-board fight after less than twenty hands. Every hand was strategic; every hand could sink the game.

This was… Shindou looked up at his opponent, whose eyes were suspiciously blanked, even as he placed a stone in an attempt to cut into the lower right territory. Yes, Shindou decided, just like Sai. More like Sai than Sai, if that made sense. And Isobe’s sense of the game was far keener than the time Shindou first played him. It was not mere improvement in skill. In fact, Shindou judged that the skill level had remained the same. But the sense of presence that executed each move—the sense of knowledge that told Shindou that his opponent was likely far above him in level, waiting to judge his skills—that had increased with an almost overpowering force. And that presence… was not Isobe. Shindou knew that as surely as he knew himself. It was not Isobe. It was someone… something else. The manner of playing, so much like Sai, skilful and expert, and yet there was something static about it. Touya had said that it was like playing Shuusaku.

Shuusaku and Sai. Sai and Shuusaku. To his mind, they had become nearly synonymous, but Shindou told himself he should have known better. There was Shuusaku, said to be the greatest Go player in Japan. And there was Sai, NetGo player. Same, but different. He felt the conundrum drawing tight inside him, holding up upright.

“… Torajirou.” He didn’t realise the words had left his lips, but he saw Isobe’s head jerk up as though it had been tied to an invisible string. All movement in Isobe’s body seemed to cut to a stop. Shindou swallowed, and went on, uncaring of the listening crowd. “You… you’re Torajirou, aren’t you?” he asked. His voice sounded as though it came from under water.

There was no response for a long time; even Isobe’s hand was frozen above the go-ke. Then, “Only one person calls me that… my teacher.” The voice was Isobe’s; the precise intonation wasn’t.

The knot inside Shindou’s chest drew up even more. “I…” He paused to swallow again, his eyes focusing on Isobe to the exclusion of everyone else. “I knew your teacher,” he said finally.

A small, polite frown creased Isobe’s face.

Shindou went on, “If I show you what he taught me, will you be convinced?” A part of him took in the murmurs from the crowd at that, but he was more intent on the other’s answer.

Finally, Isobe nodded. “Maybe,” he said. He placed a stone, his movements jerky and uncoordinated.

Shindou studied the Go board, letting his mind run through the possible moves he could make, and what the likely result of each course of action was. Whatever he did, he was going to lose, he thought with sinking comprehension. Torajirou would win, he thought, and his back straightened at that. He slowly reached into the go-ke, and took a stone between his fingertips.

He had played countless games with Sai, though he hadn’t learnt everything that Sai was able to teach him. Stored carefully inside Shindou’s mind, though, were the memories of the way Sai played: his favourite moves, his method of reasoning, his flashes of inspiration—together with the memories of Sai’s moods, his likes and dislikes, his genuine appreciation for the modern world. Sai’s Go contained all of that. The summer they played NetGo had been a mutual learning experience, though it took him much later to realise the fact. Placing Sai’s moves for him, Hikaru had learnt to absorb the uniqueness of Sai’s extraordinary mind. It had been a difficult concept for Shindou to grasp after started studying Shuusaku’s games in earnest, but Sai’s Go was indeed unique from Shuusaku, despite the similarities, but he had his memories of Sai. and his knowledge of Sai’s play. He had yet to reach Sai’s standard, and he certainly didn’t play like Sai… but he could.

He didn’t even register the ‘pachi!’ of the stones being placed. He only knew he was digging deep, deep inside himself, holding on to his memories of Sai with both hands, as he twisted out from Isobe’s grip and started building territory. He felt as though he could read the entire game in all its countless permutations, with each move, and the patterns spread in his mind’s eye, further than he could see. His head ached with the effort, and his vision seemed to be tinged with red. The thought gradually rose in his mind: this is not my Go. This is Sai’s Go. The two thoughts spiralled in his mind, making him appalled and dizzy.

Then, as though from a long way off, he heard the words, “I resign.”

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

12. "You are a Go player; I'm not a Go player."

When Shindou’s eyes finally re-focused, the first thing he saw was his fan on the table, which looked small and worn. There was no Sai. He felt drained; there was no triumph, only a bone-deep disappointment. No Isobe either, he suddenly realized, staring at the empty chair opposite him; he sat up in alarm at that. “What…” he began.

Touya answered him. “As soon as he resigned, he stood up and ran out before we could stop him.”

“You didn’t go after him?” Shindou started to stand up, but his legs, for some reason, felt rubbery, and he sat down again more heavily, than he intended.

“I was more worried about you,” Touya said. “You just sat there, and you didn’t say anything. Are you all right?”

Shindou let his hand fall on his fan, running a finger over the surface. “I’m fine. But he…” He finally took in the mixture of amazement and curiosity on the faces of the onlookers, particularly Ogata-san and Touya-sensei. With dismay he realized that they had heard the conversation between him and Isobe… with Torajirou. And they had seen the way he played. “It’s been a long day,” he said, forcing himself to speak casually, “I think I’ll go back and rest,” he reached out to collect the stones from the Go board. “Ogata-san, I’m sorry for interrupting your game…”

Another hand gripped his to stop him. “If you can play like that, Shindou,” Ogata said, looking from the Go board to him, “why do you still lose to Akira?”

Touya, Shindou belatedly realised, hadn’t looked the least surprised at his play. At Ogata’s question, though, Touya's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, and only watched Shindou.

Shindou frowned, trying to think of the right words to explain. “I couldn’t…” he said finally. “It’d be like stealing.” Touya-sensei stirred at that answer, he noticed.

“What do you mean?” Ogata asked. “You are Sai, aren’t you? You were playing just like Sai. Why can’t you play like Sai all the time?”

“No… No...” Shindou shook his head frantically. “It wasn’t me. I’m not Sai. I never was. I learnt lots from him, but my Go is mine, not his.”

“Then what was this game about?”

Shindou found himself backing up when Ogata approached another step, intent on getting more answers from him.  “It was… a reunion. Torajirou… Isobe! I have to talk to him.” He stood up, gripping his fan, and managed to avoid Ogata’s attempts to stop him, before he hurried out of the salon, hoping to catch Isobe.

*****

He found the boy sitting on a bench outside the subway entrance, watching the crowd. Shindou approached, and sat down beside him.

“Are you here to gloat?” Isobe asked.

“Torajirou?” Shindou looked curiously at him, wondering if there was a way to tell what Torajirou really looked like.  He had seen pictures of Shuusaku, but they weren't the same.

Isobe turned his head to glare at him. “He’s gone,” he finally burst out. “Are you happy now?” He snarled every word at him.

Despite somehow expecting that, he found himself spluttering, “What?”

“He was never really here to begin with… not even a real ghost,” Isobe continued, “But he helped me to win all the games I wanted. And now, because of you, he’s gone!”

“How did he disappear?” he asked hoarsely.

Isobe went on relentlessly, his eyes seeming to bore into him. “The first time I played Go on that Go board, he showed me… hundreds and hundreds of games. Drove me nearly crazy. Then I realized that every time I played a game, if I concentrated, I would know where to move. It was difficult at first, but I managed it. All I wanted to do was to show everyone that I could play Go. I could be the best Go player they’d ever seen. I could even defeat Touya Akira! And then you had to appear!” He was standing up by then, a finger pointing in Shindou’s direction.

“I… I didn’t mean…” His throat was dry.

“And this obsession you have with Sai, all of you!” Isobe shouted. “You, Touya, that Waya guy, and even Ogata-san! He was just someone who lost a game when he cheated!”

“He didn’t cheat!” Shindou found himself standing up at that. “Sai would never cheat! Didn’t Torajirou tell you the story? His opponent was the one who cheated, and accused Sai of it! Don’t you malign Sai’s name!” He glared, suddenly seeing for himself the minute widening of Isobe’s eyes. “Oh,” he said, as a light came on in his mind, and he sat down. “You didn’t know.”

"No."  Isobe looked sulky at the admission.  "It was the only game that was connected with someone named Sai, in his mind. I was just hoping to confuse you when I showed you that game."

"It gave me a shock," Shindou admitted.

“How did you know, then?” Isobe asked, sitting down again.

“I told you, I knew him once,” Shindou said, feeling a strange freedom in admitting it so heedlessly. “I’m sorry he’s gone,” he said to Isobe, half wondering if he meant Sai or Torajirou.

Isobe looked at him, his expression turning surprisingly mature for a moment. “I knew he wasn’t going to stick around for long. He was scary. All he thought about was Go. He didn’t even talk--other than about Go. I thought he was going to possess me. I’m disappointed, but I’m not sorry.”

Something told Shindou that Isobe was not as nonchalant as he pretended, though. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Don’t give me your sympathy, Shindou-san,” Isobe said.  He had already turned back to regard his shoes.

“Are you going to continue playing Go, at least?”

“Are you kidding? Why should I? I’ve already beaten Touya Akira.” He looked into the distance. “Too bad I couldn’t have beaten Ogata 10-dan as well.” He frowned at the missed opportunity.

“Ogata-san and I are playing next month,” Shindou offered.

"Oh?" Isobe looked interested.  “Make you a deal. You beat him, and I’ll stop telling people I’m Sai.”

Shindou was feeling mellow. “You aren’t Sai, and you don’t have the means to back up that claim anymore,” he said.

“I’m still good enough to challenge that stupid friend of yours, Ochi 5-dan, wasn’t it?” Isobe smirked, looking almost like himself.

“Ochi’s not stupid.”

“He was stupid enough to underestimate me, just because I was an amateur.” He narrowed his eyes at Shindou. “You don’t often play like you did just know, do you?”

“I never did,” Shindou said. “I shouldn’t have, either.”

“One of those stupid honourable idiots,” Isobe said, as he stood up and jammed his hands in his pockets, "who doesn't know how to use an advantage he's got."  The sneer on his face was almost friendly. “It was a good game, even if I didn’t play it. Torajirou was impressed with you, you know.” He stuck out a hand.

Shindou took it, and they shook hands firmly.

*****

“Hikaru.”

Shindou looked up to see Touya approaching, then hunched deeper into himself.

“I called Isobe-san.  He said the two of you parted at ways the subway station.  I thought I would find you here,” Touya said, pausing to bow respectfully, as he always did, before the gravestone.

Shindou watched him.  “Pathetic, huh?” he said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I mean, he wasn’t even Shuusaku for real. Even if I wanted to look for him, I wouldn’t find him here.”

At least he didn't go all the way to Innoshima, Touya thought.  “You don’t have to look for him. He’s in your Go,” he said.

“I know, but I miss him so much at times, I wish I could see him for real just once, again…”

He sat down beside Shindou, offering a silent apology to the spirits around for behaving so casually in the graveyard. After long seconds he felt Shindou sigh, as he shifted closer to Touya. “How were things after I took off?"

"I managed to stop Ogata from chasing after you. Father said you needed to talk to Isobe alone, and managed to calm everyone down.  But mostly I think the customers just assumed you were being a troublemaker."

Shindou nodded; a muted chuckle shook his body.  Touya could feel the movement of his head against his own body. "They don't really think that I'm Sai, do they?" Shindou asked.

Uncharacteristically, Touya gave a shrug.  "I said that you had been practicing with Sai's kifu from the online games.  And you're a Shuusaku fan anyway. Though neither Father nor Ogata-san seem totally convinced."  Shindou groaned loudly at that, while Touya thought it over.  So many people were chasing after Sai.  He remembered what Shindou had said once, about chasing a shadow and being defeated by him, instead.

More seconds passed; Touya could feel the evening air getting cooler, and he saw fireflies start to twinkle in the distance. “Will you never play like that again?” he asked.

Shindou was silent for a while, before he shook his head. “I don’t think so," he said firmly. "It’s like what I told Ogata-san: it’d be like stealing. When Sai was still with me, and I let him play my games, that was one thing. But now that he’s left, and even though I can play like him… I can be him... I shouldn’t.” He turned to Touya. “I have to reach the Hand of God on my own, Akira. I can't play Sai's Go. I have to beat you with my own skills,” he said. “Not… steal his skills, while he’s not around.”

At the words, Touya felt strangely relieved. Not because of his own fear of being passed by Shindou, but because there had been something truly unnerving about Shindou’s expression during the game with Isobe. There was none of the intense, focused attention that habitually appeared on Shindou’s face during a serious game, the one that usually intimidated Shindou’s less secure opponents. Instead, Shindou had looked like someone tearing his nails holding on to the edge of a high cliff, with a look of concentration that made him look less human, somehow.

He supposed Shindou understood more about possession by a ghost than he would admit, about how the dishonest use of certain… means to gain special knowledge was not only cheating, but the worst type of stealing of all. One might reach the Hand of God through hard work, but to steal it was to debase every struggle that a Go player had gone through. Or even, the ordinary works of any human. He reached out to grip Shindou’s hand. “Good,” he said in response to Shindou’s words. “If you could play like Sai on command,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, “My father would make you play with him forever.”

He heard a splutter from Shindou. “Akira? Are you making a joke?” Shindou asked.

“What do you think?” he asked innocently.

“I think…” Shindou murmured, and Touya suddenly found Shindou’s lips on his.

He had a moment to think ‘but we’re in a temple and graveyard’ before his entire mind was filled with Shindou Hikaru and how, despite the dusty feel of Shindou’s lips, the sweet taste of the kiss filled his mouth.

Shindou’s eyes were suspiciously bright when they separated. “Let’s go and get some ramen,” Shindou said, suddenly standing up and pulling Touya to his feet.

“Hikaru…”

“You know, I’m glad you really can’t find Sai here,” Shindou looked around at their surroundings, before he slid an arm around Touya's waist. “Just think how embarrassing it would be if Sai saw us.”

It was not difficult to summon up an indignant tone. “Shindou!”

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

The end.

Luce (redacanthus@yahoo.com)