Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Side Note: Please don't be pissed off with me after you read this. I'm warning you in adavance, it's basically meant to be depressing. It's a one shot and I'm never going back to it, but it was fun to write. If you have any constructive criticism I'd like to hear it.



The Meijin has suffered a stroke.
The news was everywhere, in major newspapers and on television as well as in Go Weekly. Well, of course, it was only natural. Shindo Meijin had been a popular figure for years, one who had revitalized the game and brought it's popularity to a whole new level. So many people looked up to him, and he despite his advancing age he was still charismatic. Besides, Touya Akira thought, sardonically, sixty five wasn't really so old. He was the same age, and it still startled him some times when he looked into the mirror and saw his father's face.
Excuse me, he said, opening the door to Shindo's hospital room.
Oh, Touya-san, Shindo's wife, Akari, greeted him cheerfully. She sat in an uncomfortable looking plastic folding chair, beside her husband's bed. Shindo, looking up, grunted in acknowledgment of Touya's presence. He had a folding go board set up on top of a bed tray. Touya walked over and sat, glancing at the position of the stones as he did so. What Shindo was doing was no entirely clear - the stones seemed laid out almost haphazardly, as if he had not been practicing go at all but rather attempting only to make an interesting artistic pattern from the pieces. In one corner Akira noticed a single white stone, flanked on all sides by black. Shindo had not bothered to remove it from the board.
He cleared his throat. I would have come sooner, he said. But the hospital told me that only family was allowed.
That's right, Akari said. Today is the first day he's been well enough to have visitors. Thank you so much for coming.
How are you feeling? He asked Shindo.
The man grunted. As he'd gotten older he'd developed a bit of a bald spot, and whenever he was confused or frustrated he would scratch his head absently. I feel fine, he said. I just need to get out of here. Damn nurses come in to poke and prod at me every five minutes.
Touya laughed politely and Akari smiled. There, there, dear, she told him. They're just doing their job.
Shindo closed his eyes. More importantly, he said. Touya, play a game with me.

They'd played each other a thousand times, so well that commentators sometimes joked that every game between the two was like a conversation, each new move a variation or a comment on some other move they'd played in the past. It wasn't that they weren't innovative or experimental anymore - if anything, Shindo especially had learned to take risks that no one else would dream of - but to Akira, Shindo's Go was instantly recognizable. Shindo cleared the board distractedly and handed Touya the box of white pieces.
he said. Fine, fine, hold onto white.
Don't excite him too much, Touya-san, Akari said. I'm going to the hospital cafeteria for a while, all right?
Touya wondered if it was all right to play all-out against someone who was hospitalized, and for such a serious reason. He had heard the doctors say that the stroke had been small. Looking at the man, he could see no visible signs of the illness. But, on the other hand, he was still an invalid. But Shindo was already placing the first hand.
The first few moves progressed smoothly, Akira thought. Shindo wasn't doing anything unusual but perhaps it was natural that he needed a straightforward game in order to get back on his feet. Cautiously he made one small aggressive move forward.
His response was erratic. Ignoring Akira's obvious invitation, he played elsewhere, connecting two stones - so early in the game - and with no obvious purpose. Akira extended the attack.
What's going on? Akira wondered. Shindo was playing horribly. It thrust him back to his junior high school days, when Shindo, after playing so well, had disappointed him badly afterwards. Now, though, the playing was different - as the game progressed, he could see strategy - but it was as if his opponent was attempting four or five different, conflicting ideas at once, all in the same place. It was not real Go - it was like the memory of Go - and Akira began to see that Shindo was so confused that anything was possible - he might play a stone directly between three of Shindo's own, and it would not be taken. Slowly he expanded his control until the entire board was his - and sat back and waited to see what Shindo would do. I will resign, Akira thought, if he plays even one more stone. It's too horrible. There was nothing in front of him but emptiness, it was not Hikaru's Go. He looked into the face of his old friend and tried not to let his emotion show.
Shindo, too, was looking at the board.
Is it all right, Touya? He said. I've been thinking about this for the three weeks, all the time that I was staring up at the ceiling in the hospital bed. He swept his hand above the Go Board. It seems all right - everything - but then somehow it's - it's like I can't keep my mind from slipping away. I needed to play against someone who would know. It's the same, isn't it?
Akira paused. In his mind he could see what would happen if he did not tell Shindo the truth. Perhaps if he broached the subject ahead of time with other pros they would be kind. Everyone loved Shindo, everyone admired him. They would play kindly against him and not tell him the truth until he managed to fine his own way back to the game, on his own. But that whole scenario was impossible, and he was vaguely embarrassed with himself for wishing so hard that it could be true. Besides, he knew - he was looking at Shindo now, facing him - that that was not what Shindo would ever want. They were both proud - proud, old men.
Shindo said, in a sudden, small voice. Touya, the game is over, isn't it? But, I can't tell who won.

The doctors promised that his recovery in other areas was good. He was having trouble with simple arithmetic - but, Akari had joked, trying to lighten the mood - he'd never been much good at that to begin with. Shindo had finally learned English, too, in his thirties, but it seemed as though almost all of that was gone. Akira came to see him almost every day but they did not play Go together or even broach the subject, because it was too dangerous.
I'm being discharged tomorrow. Shindo told him. Akari seems to think I'll be a bother around the house, because she's trying to get me to enroll in some kind of woodworking classes - or pottery - at the local community center. What does she think I am, a drooling old man? He paused. I haven't played Go against any of the other pros, or against anyone who's come to visit, he told Akira. Of course I'm retiring. Please make the announcement for me. But don't... he paused, don't say why. I don't want my name to be dragged through the mud.
Akira nodded. He doubted that anyone would ever do that, but Shindo was Shindo, after all, and he had his own pride.
I keep trying to play Go. Shindo told him. I can't put it away so quickly, after such a long time, of course, so I let myself fiddle with the board here and there. I've tried to recreate games and sometimes I succeed - but sometimes I can't seem to recall anything at all. Perhaps, with some time, he said. Please come to play against me once in a while. I can't promise that I'll improve, and maybe it would be better not to embarrass myself. But I think that it won't hurt too much.
Akira nodded. You know, he said. It was awkward. It's not too late. People can start things over - maybe if you practice again - you could do it secretly...
Shindo looked thoughtful and nodded. It's all right, he said. Maybe it's time for me to play Go as a hobby, just like any other old man. It's been my life, you know, and I'm very grateful for that. But I think I could have done any number of other things, too, if I'd just followed those routes. And I'm very jealous, because you will be able to continue when I cannot. But... he sighed. Go away now, Touya. Maybe I changed my mind. I don't want to see you after all.
Akira took his coat and left. It was unkind of him, but he did not want to go to Shindo's house, to play against someone who used to be great. In a way it was like looking into the past, looking into a mirror. When he had met Shindo as a boy he had already been playing Go for his whole childhood - and Shindo had just begun. Now he was still playing - he might play for another eight or nine years, just abut the time he had spent without Shindo when he was young. Shindo was- had been, undoubtedly, a genius - but now it looked like God was forsaking them and waiting for a new genius to come along. I'll visit Shindo, he thought, I won't visit him. Touya Akira put on his coat. He needed to go to the Go center, he thought. There was an announcement he had to make to the whole world.