Mistaken, Eaten, Forsaken

by Luce Red

AU. What if Sai was the haunted one?

Title: Mistaken - Eaten - Forsaken
Series: Hikaru no Go
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of Hotta and Obata.
Summary: AU. What if Sai was the one haunted?

----------I: Mistaken (Those once meant to succeed)----------

"What time is Fujiwara playing?" A man in a suit, mostly likely a pro, inquired at the reception before his companion could stop him.

The receptionist looked up, a harassed expression on her face. "It's at 2 pm," she gestured at the placard placed at the counter: '2 pm, Fujiwara vs. Touya, 9th floor'.

"Oh, sorry." The pro at least had the grace to look sheepish.

His companion offered, "You must have been getting the same question all day." He didn't smile, but the glint in his glasses was friendly and sympathetic.

Visibly softened, the receptionist smiled. "It's all right. It's always a big occasion when Fujiwara-sensei plays," she said.

"Oh, yes. Touya-sensei shuts himself in his room for days before each time to prepare," the first man said. "He doesn't play with anyone else, not even his s-" he stopped as he caught sight of the two of them, sitting on the sofa in front of the TV. "Akira! You're here too."

Waya Yoshitaka pushed down a spike of resentment at being ignored, but then again, he did not actually know any of them.

"Ashiwara-san, Ogata-san," the tall, oddly-dressed youth said in greeting, standing up as he did so. He was wearing an old-fashioned sweater in a striking shade of blue over black dress pants. His hair fell to his shoulders now, but no one could call him girly: not with eyes that seemed to pierce the very substance of the air.

"Here to watch your father play?" Ogata asked.

Touya Akira nodded. "Not just him," he said.

Ashiwara beamed. "That's right, you and Fujiwara are the same age, right? Makes sense that you would be curious about him. I heard that you were the one who first got to know him."

"Yes." The affirmative was given in a soft voice, as though the speaker had no intention of continuing, but Ashiwara did not seem to notice his reluctance.

"I heard that the first time he came into the Go salon one day, you played with him, right? You lost. Then we found out that it was his first time playing Go."

Another nod.

"Touya-sensei was very surprised," Ashiwara went on, reminisced. "Until then, we'd never thought there would be another person of Akira's age who was stronger than him."

"Why are you telling me this? I know it already," Ogata said. He smoothed his white suit with irritation.

Undeterred by his tone, Ashiwara said, "So Touya-sensei played with him. You were there too, Akira. Wasn't it an exciting game?"

Sounding as though he had said it many times in the past, Touya Akira said, "Yes, it was. And the rest is history."

"That's right! Touya-sensei suggested that he take part in the Go Exam, and he became pro that very first time. Akira too. Mind you, we all expected that of Akira, but Fujiwara..." Ashiwara shook his head in appreciation.

Ogata glanced his watch. "It's nearly 2 pm. Let's go, or we won't get good seats."

"He blew them all away," Ashiwara said, pronouncing the words with relish, before he frowned. "Actually, going by age, he could be Akira's rival, but- what, Ogata-san? Oh, right, look at the time! Let's go." Ashiwara started to follow his friend.

Touya Akira was about to sit down, but Ashiwara turned back. "Akira, aren't you coming with us?"

"I-I'm waiting for a friend."

It was a blatant lie, and Ashiwara gave him a curious look, but evidently decided not to pursue it. "All right, see you later, then." They went off in the direction of the lift lobby.

Touya Akira sat down again on the sofa, his eyes seemingly focused on the fish tank on the far end of the reception area.

Waya had never thought that he would be sorry for Touya Akira. After all, the other boy had been a constant thorn in Waya's side for years, and they hadn't even been introduced yet.

Everyone knew the how it was, of course: the only son of Touya Meijin, and who had been playing non-handicapped games with his father from the age of ten. He had taken part in only two children's competitions, and both times, he had dominated the competition and won easily. Afterwards, it was said that Touya Meijin stopped his son from taking part in such tournaments in order not to overwhelm the other children.

Waya had only seen him a few times, and each time, he had thought that the Touya boy was an awful prig. Always wearing a suit--though not today--with that high-and-mighty expression on his face. Waya had never seen him smile. It automatically put Waya's back up. He disliked people with snobbish attitudes most of all.

The Go community was not large, and quite a number of young players came from families where Go was a tradition. Waya was an outsider, though, and he felt the lack of family support very keenly--his parents supported his decision, but they didn'tunderstand--and tended to feel sensitive about those acted as though they were the elite.

That was before Fujiwara Sai came onto the scene. Waya found it difficult, even now, to get his head around the stories that sprang around him.

Fujiwara had appeared out of nowhere; like Waya, he was from a non-Go playing background. But unlike Waya, he seemed to have mastered the game in virtually no time. From the first game he ever played. It was said that he had to have komi explained to him, and until he took part in the Pro Exam, he had never seen a game-clock. He had no teacher, no goban (at first) and his Go style had a curious, old-fashioned cast to it.

But that didn't matter. Once he became a pro, there had been no stopping him. Fujiwara, winner of the Japan Cup, the LG Cup, and the Honinbou title--and many more--was the new darling of the Go world.

As for what that slew of successes meant for those who were once meant to shine, such as Touya Akira (or Waya's best friend, Isumi), Waya could only guess.

The silence was broken only by the soft gurgling of the water pump in the aquarium.

"Not going to see the game?" Waya asked. Despite his dislike, he felt as though he ought to say something.

Touya Akira looked up, as though he hadn't realized that someone else was in the reception area. "Oh, yes." But he didn't stand up.

------------II: Eaten (Those consumed by Go)-------------

Fujiwara Sai walked to the Go Institute. It was only a short distance from the subway station, and though it was already past midday, there were few pedestrians about. Fujiwara let his long strides eat up the pavement, his shoulders held back with confidence, his back straight, utterly relaxed yet disciplined in a way he had come to conduct himself since the past five years. The warm weather didn't bother him at all. Beside him, the ghost floated, commenting on ramen.

...I saw on television that there was a new way to make instant ramen, by baking the ramen rather than deep-frying them. I wonder how that would taste, wouldn't it taste bland...

Not for the first time, Fujiwara thought, the ghost seemed to have only two settings: Go and ramen. There was no one around, so he said aloud, to indulge the ghost, "They flavour it the same way." After all, they had watched the same programme just the night before.

Yes! the ghost agreed, but surely the method of cooking would make a difference... It went on speculating about how different ramen would taste and what different flavours would work better.

"We're here," Fujiwara said as he saw the building of the Go Institute appearing right in front of them.

It was amazing how quickly the ghost could change. Oh, yes, it whispered.

The response that came back could not be heard by anyone else, yet Fujiwara had the unsettling feeling that the fierceness of the ghost's devotion to Go could cause the ground to vibrate. Sometimes he felt that he only had to turn his head to see the ghost donning armor and sword, as though he were a seasoned knight preparing for a duel.

But the ghost was all boy: awkward posture and gangly limbs that suggested he had been in the middle of a growth spurt when he died, playful and not at all good at respectful phrases. Or being treated with extreme deference, Fujiwara thought, as the ghost made exaggerated sickened faces at the (admittedly) excessive fawning from the game officials and members of the audience who had come to watch today's game.

"Is Touya-sensei here already?" Fujiwara asked. Though they were technically equals, Touya Kouyo was older; it would not do to have the older pro wait for him.

"He'll be here soon," Tanaka Ichiro, who was in charge of organising the title games, informed him. "In the meantime, Fujiwara-sensei, would you like to use one of the classrooms to rest-"

Fujiwara spotted the lounge near the reception area and shook his head politely. "It's all right. I'll just wait here for a while," he said, looking into Tanaka's slightly anxious expression. "I would like to wait for Touya-sensei and go up with him together, if it's all right," he elaborated, to assuage the other man's worry.

"Of course it is!" Tanaka said with a quick nod. "It's on the 9th floor. We'll be waiting for you."

Diplomatically, he ushered the other officials and prospective audience towards the lifts, saying how important it was for pros to prepare mentally for an important game. The reception area was quiet all of a sudden.

With a small sigh of relief, Fujiwara entered the lounge area. He ought to be used to the attention by now, he reflected with a little guilty pride, but it was still overwhelming at times. There were times when he only wanted to think about the game ahead. He sat down on the nearest couch. Wait, Sai! the ghost exclaimed a second too late.

Fujiwara shot to his feet as something crunched under him. He had accidentally sat down on someone's jacket; it sounded as though there was something breakable in one of the pockets. He grabbed the jacket and studied it, wondering what he had done.

"Excuse me, that's my jacket."

Embarrassed, Fujiwara turned his head to see a familiar face, the jacket still in his hand.

That's Touya Akira! the ghost exclaimed, pleasure spreading all over his face.

Fujiwara spared a moment to reflect that the ghost had never really forgotten that it was Touya Akira who played the first game with him--with them--five years ago. "I'm sorry," he said to the other pro. "I sat on it accidentally. I think something broke-"

Touya Akira's eyebrows rose, and Fujiwara let him take the jacket. He--and the ghost--watched as Touya Akira felt around in the pockets and held out a handful of white Go stones. "It's just these," Touya Akira said. "Nothing broke. It's all right."

Nigiri! the ghost squealed. Even!

Fujiwara ignored the ghost, though he was not surprised at the exclamation. The ghost could be extraordinarily single-minded. "I'm relieved to hear that," he said. He wondered why Touya had Go stones in his pockets."You carry Go stones in your pockets?"

Touya Akira looked embarrassed. "Some of the children I teach tried to bring the stones home," he indicated the classrooms nearby, which were open for children's classes in the morning. Yet he couldn't seem to help smiling, as though amused at the children's actions. "I caught them at it and persuaded them to give them to me. I'll return them to Sumida-san later," he said, referring to a member of the staff in charge of the equipment.

Fujiwara was surprised at the answer. Touya Akira had not seem to him like someone who was sociable enough to interact with mere children. His first impression of the other person--then a child just like him--was of someone who was intent only on those above him. To hear of him teaching children to play Go made Fujiwara feel as though Touya Akira had changed a great deal from that first time.

"You're playing with my father today, Fujiwara-san," Touya Akira went on, changing the topic.

Fujiwara realised that he was the only person today who did not say 'Fujiwara-sensei'. It intrigued him; was Touya Akira taking advantage of their earlier, if short, acquaintance? "It is an honour to play with him," he answered.

Touya Akira nodded. "It is. I wish you two a good game," he said with a formal bow. "Excuse me, I'll go and see Sumida-san now," he said and walked away before Fujiwara could say anything else.

But I want to play with him again! the ghost grumbled.

Touya Akira's actions felt like a dismissal to Fujiwara; the thought made him frown. He opened his mouth to protest, but saw from the corner of his eyes that someone had entered the reception area. He turned around immediately. "Touya-sensei! Good afternoon," he said, before bowing. Touya Akira was nowhere to be seen, he suddenly noticed. He had left too quickly.

"Good afternoon, Fujiwara-sensei," the elder Touya said. He was wearing a traditional kimono, which immediately made Fujiwara feel under-dressed. "Were you waiting for me? You shouldn't have."

Fujiwara shook his head. "I don't mind at all," he said. He meant it; though he and Touya Kouyo had played both informal and official games for years, there was so much depth to the other man's Go that Fujiwara was painfully aware that even a lifetime of playing together would not be enough. He wondered if he should mention to Touya Kouyo that his son was in the Go Institute too, or if the man already knew that; but then as they stepped into the lift together, talking of Go, all thought of Touya Akira slipped away from his mind.

------------III: Forsaken (Those lost to history)----------

Touya Akira seldom went to his father's Go salon. There were some who found it surprising that the son of Touya Meijin should shun the place, and speculated that he was jealous of Fujiwara Sai, who could often be found there, holding court with his fans.

After that fateful game with Fujiwara Sai years ago, his father had been fascinated with the boy and invited him to play often at the salon. Fujiwara was not fazed at the prospect of playing with adults and indeed, it was as though he preferred it. He had seemed to be more like a miniature adult--and more like a prodigy--than Touya himself.

Touya wished him the best of it. He would not be human if he did not feel jealous of the attention his father paid to Fujiwara, but he slowly began to realise that true rivalry, like that between Fujiwara and his father, was a rare and precious gift, not to be squandered. Vaguely, between Go tournaments, he was wondering if he would one day be that lucky.

He frequented another Go salon now. Pushing open the door to it, he couldn't help peeking around the edge of the door. It looked--no, it sounded--all right. Amused at his own precautions, he opened the door fully.

"Touya-sensei!"

He literally jumped before he could help himself, and turned around to see the man standing just behind him. "Kawai-san," he said, unable to help himself from sighing inside. He liked the man, but he was just so--loud.

The taxi-driver was looking a little puzzled. "But why are you behaving so sneakily, Touya-sensei?" he asked, before the puzzlement faded away. "Anyway, I'm glad to see you!" he said, clasping a shoulder around Touya in a friendly fashion. "I was wondering what you've been doing, Sensei!"

"He's been playing Go, of course!" another customer from inside the Go salon answered for him. "Please come in, Touya-sensei, and don't let that uncouth man keep you outside."

"Uncouth-" Kawai scowled with indignation, his hands coming up as though ready for a fight.

Freed, Touya took the opportunity to step inside the Go salon. He inclined his head at the one who had spoken, one of the regulars as well. "Doumoto-san, good afternoon."

"Good afternoon." Doumoto's gaze flickered to Kawai. "Don't you have a taxi to drive, Kawai? What are taxi drivers coming to?"

"So I'm not a hardworking taxi driver," Kawai said, glaring at him. "Besides, how can I leave when Touya-sensei is here? Touya-sensei, may I play a game with you?"

Doumoto bristled in indignation. "I was going to ask Touya-sensei," he said.

"Ha! I saw him first!" Kawai said in triumph. "Touya-sensei-" he said in appeal.

"I can play with you both, if you don't mind?" Touya said quickly.

"Mind? Of course we don't mind!" Kawai said before Doumoto could, ushering him toward the seats.

Touya reflected that Kawai's manic grin actually looked slightly disturbing to those who didn't know him. With that sharp, thin face and goatee that made him seem this side of sinister, he wondered how it was that Kawai's passengers dared to get into his taxi. Then again, he had reason to know that Kawai, for all his bluster, was endlessly kind. He played very good Go--not professional Go, but his boisterous enthusiasm was bracing.

He had found himself at this Go salon when he was preparing for the Go exam. Upon realizing that he was taking part in the exam, Kawai had challenged him, and he had ended up giving Kawai a three-stone handicap.

"...Touya-sensei is here?" Terauchi, another regular, walked up. "Can I play, too?"

"Me too!" Soga said, waving a hand in greeting, entering the Go salon at that moment.

Touya could play simultaneous Go with as many as ten players at once, but he usually stuck to four when he was at Dougenzaka. That way, he could still chat with them while playing; about Go moves and about the Go world--it was amazing how much gossip he picked up from one of his visits here.

"Touya-sensei, did you watch the game between your father and Fujiwara-sensei yesterday?" Doumoto asked after a while.

Ah. So they wanted to talk about that. Touya only offered, "Yes, I did." He didn't mention that he had watched the game on the television set in the lounge. After that brief exchange with Fujiwara, he didn't feel like watching them in person.

"Do you know what Touya-sensei meant at the end of the game?" Doumoto asked.

"What did he say?" Kawai asked immediately. "Did Touya-sensei say something?"

The other two players, in addition to the spectators, added their questions, so finally Doumoto answered, giving Touya a curious look, as though expecting him to answer. "Touya-sensei said, 'Next time, I want to play with the one inside.' "

A silence settled over the listeners, though not for long. "What did he mean by that?" Kawai asked, and appealed to Touya. "Touya-sensei, what did your father mean?"

"Yes, Touya-sensei, do you know what he meant?" Doumoto asked.

Touya started to shake his head in denial, then paused. It was such a wild suspicion that Touya could hardly credit himself with thinking it, though it kept reappearing in his thoughts despite his best efforts.

Many in the Go world assumed that Fujiwara had learnt Go from an elusive teacher and that his 'first' game with Touya Kouyo's son simply meant that it was his first game with a stranger. But Touya had played that game with Fujiwara; he knew. It was really Fujiwara's first game of Go. The slowness and hesitation, the way Fujiwara's eyes moved around the goban--it felt like he was counting the rows--and of course, the way he held the Go stones, between thumb and forefinger--these all pointed at a person who had never played Go in his life until that game.

He had wondered why his father did not see it and now, he realised, of course his father had. But who else would even think of it?

"Touya-sensei?"

Touya shook his head and met Doumoto's eyes. "I don't know what my father meant. I'm sorry," he said, apologising for more than just his inability to answer them.

It was all so impossible.

There were two Fujiwaras. And the one that Touya played with that first time was the one inside.

---

Touya sat at his table, a book of kifu propped open on the stack of Go books before him and a Go board at his elbow. Here and there stones were scattered, glistening black and white glass stones that seemed to illuminate the plain wooden surface.

He was dividing his attention between the kifu and the Go board, laying out the game on the kifu but pausing every and then to consider the direction of the game and the motives of each hand. It was an old game, played by two players who had intrigued Touya from the moment he was mature enough to compare styles of playing. One of them was Honinbou Shuusaku, who would have been the head of the Honinbou house but for his premature death.

He thought in passing of the comment made by Go scholars about how fitting it was that the current challenger for the Honinbou title played with such a distinctive Honinbou Shuusaku style. A suitable homage, as it were. Due in part to his success and popularity, Fujiwara Sai was single-handedly reviving appreciation in Shuusaku's fuseki.

Touya admired Shuusaku, but it was Shuusaku's opponent in the game he was replaying that intrigued him more. A mere boy whose full name appeared in only a handful of records kept by the Honinbou house, yet one who, like Shuusaku, had shown great promise.

There was a little-known story, passed down through the years and probably anecdotal, about the boy--no more than eleven or twelve years old at the time--who had been surprised in the act of stealing a valuable goban to sell. The furious guards, so it was said, set themselves upon the boy, whom they guessed to be from one of the farms nearby, and gave him a severe beating.

The young master himself arrived home in time to stop them before they killed the boy. Perhaps intrigued by the boy who had tried to carry off his goban, he ordered the servants to take care of him, and in the weeks while the boy recovered under his roof, he even taught the boy to play Go.

Only an unverified story, but what happened after was undisputed, recorded in letters and Go commentaries of that time.

It was conventional Go wisdom that only those who learn the game before the age of ten could truly come to understand its subtlety. But even if the young master had held this belief, it would be shattered after the boy managed to grasp the intricacies of the game within mere months of learning it. It was said that after barely two years the boy already played at near-professional level, and after four took Black when playing with the young master.

Sheltered by the young master--some said fear of being overtaken--the boy remained in the house in Edo, studying Go with the other disciples and playing with only a few outsiders. But even with that limited exposure, it was considered a great pity that the boy should have died in the same cholera epidemic that claimed the life of the young master.

Go aficionados often speculated, as Touya himself did, what the Go landscape of 19th-century Japan might have been like had Shuusaku's favourite pupil survived. Only a few dozen kifu had survived, but the startling brilliance in them was enough to make Shindou Hikaru more than just a footnote in Japanese Go history.

(end)