Preface

Ever seen the movie 'A Beautiful Mind'? If not, go and watch it. Right now. Besides featuring a wonderful go scene 9 minutes and 3 seconds into it, it also carries a powerful message and haunting question – who draws the line between illusion and reality?

More than just the basis of that masterpiece movie is carried over into this fic—that same message, that same question is asked. Of course, it is not answered—if 'A Beautiful Mind' can't, I sure won't try. But it's a question that I hope will dwell in your mind, at the very least.

This fic is angsty, dark, and everything Hikaru no Go isn't. I have a habit of doing that. However, I'm hoping this fic will lend a lot the Hikaru no Go community.

Special Thanks to: The Toriyama World forums, for debating with me, a long time ago, the question of Sai's existence. And, of course, all the readers and reviewers! =)

Enjoy! ^^

CHAPTER 1: VOICES

           

"Reality is only an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."

                        Albert Einstein

            Hikaru firmly fastened the sleeve button and tightened his tie to an uncomfortable firmness. Giving his collar one last adjustment, he turned towards the mirror. The image of a mature boy gazed back at him, his blonde hair covering his face, yet a set of brilliant green eyes penetrating the golden barrier, full of determination. His blue suit and pants, along with a tie, denoted an event of great importance. A title match, perhaps. Or an interview for the Yomiuri Newspaper.

            But no, this was much more important than any of that. At least to him it was.

            The boy closed his eyes, breathed deeply, exhaling.

            Three years. Three years! Was this what he had had in mind that fateful day when he had promised his rival his most recondite secret? Had he realized the consequences of that one binding vow, or had it been another rash, impulsive whim of his youth, like so many others? His memories of that time, seemingly so long ago, had grown dim. It was all rose-tinted, and Hikaru didn't trust himself to know what had really happened anymore, so why would anyone else?

            'Calm,' the boy told himself. 'He'll believe you.' Hikaru straightened his tie, and that one gesture silenced the nagging voices of doubt that had tormented him for so long.

            The sound of Hikaru's door being opened, and the boy's descent down the stairs, alerted his mother, who came out of the kitchen to look at him.

            "Oh, you have a match today?"

            "No." He answered simply, grabbing a light coat off the rack.

            "A date?" She asked hopefully.

            The boy narrowed his eyes as he donned his shoes, glaring at his mother. "Hardly. I'm going to Touya's salon."

            This news seemed to slightly disturb his mother. Her brow creased vaguely into a frown, but she quickly repressed it, and went back to work.

            The sounds of city life eased Hikaru's nerves. The voices of the multitudes did much to quiet the voices in his own mind. Voices of doubt.

            It was finally time. Hikaru had put it off for long enough. That "someday" he had promised Touya in the first preliminary of the Honinbou match had drawn up. It was a secret that he could no longer keep inside him, lest he should forget it had ever existed. And there was, of course, only one person who deserved to hear it. Only one person who would understand, who would feel as strongly about it as Hikaru did.

             He paused in his walk. Slowly, he turned around. Turned back.

            He couldn't do this. No way. It was too unbelievable.

            Hikaru's journey was continually plagued by voices. Voices of dissent. "Touya-kun will believe you," he told himself. "He guessed it earlier by himself, too. He's on your side."

            "Nobody could believe it!"

            "Do you believe it yourself?"

            Silencing the voices, he determinedly spun around once more and crossed the rest of the distance.         

            Touya Akira turned his head at the sound of the cash register ringing. Another customer had been checked in.

            At the first second, Touya almost didn't recognize him, all dressed in blue and in a fancy tie. But an instant later, he identified the newcomer. He raised an eyebrow in mild amusement as Hikaru crossed the room and plopped into the chair across from him. "What's with—?" Akira smirked.

            Hikaru looked up from the hand that had been covering his features, and a sad, frightened eye met Akira's gaze through his fingers, making him gasp. He had never seen his friend with such a desperate expression on his face.

            "Shindou! What's wrong?"

            "Touya-kun, there's… something I've come to tell you. You have to understand." His voice was shaky, his face pallid. He looked at Akira with pleading eyes, as if this meeting had taken everything he had.

            He reeled in confusion. "Calm down, what's wrong? Here, sit." He motioned for Hikaru to sit down in the chair across the table, usually reserved for the students of the young player.

            "Touya-kun, do you remember…" he ran a hand through his hair, calmed his nerves. Breathing deeply, he continued. "Do you remember what happened three years ago?"

            Akira knew exactly what had been special about three years ago, but pretended to think about it. "I don't know… our Honinbou Preliminary match? The Hokuto Cup?"

            "Our… first match."

            "That wasn't our first match," Akira said uneasily. "We played a few times before that." But already, alarm bells had begun to ring in his head. The games before that had all been special games—games in which he had sensed that other presence, that presence that still made itself known in Shindou's moves, every time they played.

            "No, it was… our first real match." This admission seemed to cause Hikaru a lot of pain.

            "I don't understand," Akira continued the game, but inside, he had become as tense and alert as his friend. This was it. Finally, he would know.

            "You were right, Touya-kun, when you said there was… another me."

            His eyes narrowed. Memories, pushed away—Sai… is inside of you. The other you. "I don't understand," he lied.

            Hikaru's voice lowered to a trembling whisper. "Yes you do…"   

           

*****

            Touya slowly slid the thin door closed behind him. He kicked his outdoor shoes off his feet, slamming them against the wall, missing the rack by metres. He slid his backpack off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

            He paced slowly to his room, not announcing his arrival to the rest of the household. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard—it couldn't be true. Of the account's fallacy he had no doubt, but Shindou's sincerity was still uncertain. Touya did not want to consider Hikaru a liar, but the alternative was insanity.

            He could be telling the truth

            No. Voices of insanity. He can't.

            Yes he could. You had the same notion yourself a few years ago.

            Years ago. A rash, missed attack against Shindou. Touya had never believed his own implausible claims. No, of course not. Shindou was lying.

            But in his mind's eye, Touya could see the boy's shaking hands, his dilated pupils, beads of sweat clinging to his brow. That could not be manufactured. Touya had never seen his friend like that.

            "You were right about me, Akira-kun," he remembered Hikaru's words of earlier that afternoon. "There was someone else inside me,  just like you guessed. That person that you first played here… at this table. That was the other me…"

            Touya didn't want to remember the rest of the discourse. Shindou had been shivering in fear the whole time, and it had ended with Akira storming angrily out of the salon and out onto the street.

            He remembered the first game they'd had, the humiliating defeat he'd suffered at Shindou's inexperienced hands. Shindou's confession certainly explained that. It explained everything. It was perfect.

            No, Touya thought. He's joking. But still, he couldn't get Shindou's paralyzed eyes out of his mind. They pleaded belief, radiated sincerity. He couldn't ignore them. Deeply disturbed, he lay down onto his thin mattress.

            That night felt like an eternity.