Disclaimer: All characters belong to Yumi Hotta + Takeshi Obata. Except for Kenji (who you've seen) Matsuno who comes later.

Warnings: Spoilers for the entire series

eternity

by The Honorable Arik Novak

Ch 4: This Boy Replace, Thee Shan't Revile

Hikaru watched his goban, the one Sai had given him, move all across Japan. All sorts of amazing players placed stones upon its surface, but the goban eventually found itself in a little village away from the players closest to the Hand of God. He felt attached to it, much like Sai had been attached to Shusaku's goban. Finally, the goban was banished to an unused room. People came and went, but none could see or hear him. Time continued to speed by like a video on fast-forward, and he never could tell who those people were or what they looked like. But suddenly, one day, time seemed to stop.

There was a boy looking at his goban strangely. He was mouthing something, and Hikaru couldn't tell what. He seemed curious, unafraid. He rose up, feeling the boy's eyes upon him. They stared at each other equally until the boy started mouthing something. Hikaru couldn't tell what on earth the boy was saying, and he said so. Could this boy hear him, see him? The boy looked intrigued and whipped out some cloth and a brush hiding around the room. Hikaru just gazed on as the boy wrote, "Who are you, mister?" Yes, he could see him! He was free! He was there, and he could play go! And what a clever boy! He was able to write so well at such a young age.

"Shimamura Hikaru," now why did that name just come jumping out of his mouth? "Why, who're you?"

The kid took the brush again and wrote a single character. "虎" Tora? Ko? The name seemed short. "Is that a nickname?" The boy looked at him strangely for a moment, as if having to translate Hikaru's words, and then nodded. His name was probably Ko, then.

"Ko, you play go?" Hikaru asked. He needed a game. Although it had felt like a second, he could also feel every decade, year, week, day, of his confinement. It was a strange, despairing sensation, and he would wish it upon no one. He wondered how Sai could ever endure it, and felt a sharp pang at the thought of his lost mentor. Whom he had saved. Hopefully.

The little boy shook his head to Hikaru's question and mouthed something that looked like "Not Go," or "Ot Ko," or "Hot Go?" Hikaru shook his head, having no idea what the boy was trying to say. The boy wavered, but started to write something: "Never mind. I want to learn Go." Hikaru nodded thoughtfully. Could the boy speak, though? It would be hard for the child to write down every question he had. He looked down to see that the boy had written two more words. "You. demon?"

Hikaru had to wonder with a laugh. Did he look like a demon? He was dressed as Sai had always dressed, and it wasn't like he looked any more demonic than he had in life. "No, child, I am not a demon," he laughed. Ko seemed hesitant, but relaxed at the sight of Hikaru's hearty laughter.

Ko wrote on a dry part of the cloth, "Didn't think so. Demon's don't wear blue. Ghost? Here to kill?" the boy wrote without hesitation, just curiosity. Hikaru had to chuckle to himself. Blue? He was wearing the pale tan, the color he'd always worn in the Heian. Perhaps Ko was color-blind as well as mute, but Hikaru knew one thing—the boy was absolutely fearless!

"Ghost," and the boy's eyes widened, "but I only seek to…play go. To reach the Hand of God." For that was what the voice had said, right? Wasn't that his destiny?

The boy smiled and nodded energetically. "I shall help you," the child wrote flawlessly. Hikaru could only smile at the child's generous nature. "Thank you, thank you. We could get started. Where is your room?" The boy grinned and ran from the room. Hikaru could finally play go again! With an enthusiasm he had not felt for ages, he tried to follow the boy.

But he couldn't.

Some force, some horrible, divine force, kept him close to the cursed goban. No. This couldn't be happening. Even Sai, when he had haunted his Go board, had been able to follow his host! Hikaru tried once again to leave, but found himself bound close to the board's vicinity. He could not even make it to the door. "Ko!" he called, forlorn. Would he ever leave this room? "Ko, please come back!" Minutes, though they felt like years, passed, and Ko walked back in, eyes wide in worry.

"I—I cannot leave the goban. I cannot leave. Please, let us play here." Hikaru didn't want to feel abandoned. The loneliness of the past centuries did nothing to suppress his extraversion; it probably only worsened his need for communication and, well, Go. He didn't suppose the five-year old knew how to work a computer…but computers probably did not exist. From what he knew of Japanese history, he seemed to be in the late seventeenth century or something.

Ko nodded and fetched two go-ke hiding in a corner of the room. They were dusty, but they would do. "Can you place my moves?" The boy wavered, but then nodded, and that was all Hikaru could ask for. "Then let us begin. I'll start at the basics…"

Life continued on that way. They were able to communicate flawlessly, and it seemed that Ko started to understand him perfectly. The boy always came with brush and cloth in hand. Most importantly, Hikaru was immensely pleased with his student's progress. In the space of two years, the boy had improved at the same pace as he himself had, and the boy started at four years old! Hikaru had wrongly guessed the child's age at first, but that only made Ko's accomplishments more impressive. He was a prodigy, a true prodigy. Hikaru still sought the Hand of God—could Ko possibly be the one to reach it with him? Ko told, or rather wrote, that he had started to play his father and his father's friends as well. He still didn't speak, but Hikaru did not mind the silence as long as he had someone to play.

"You have improved much, Ko," Hikaru murmured, not intending for the boy to hear. But although Hikaru thought he had muttered quietly, the boy grinned. "You have no idea how proud I am of you," he said louder, since Ko already heard him. It was true. Hikaru thought this must have been what Sai felt. But of course, Sai had always loved the game much more than he had…keeping Sai from his game was much worse than what Hikaru was going through now. Sure, he could not leave the goban, but he had such an enthusiastic student, right from the start, who played as many games as Hikaru wanted. Hikaru decided that Ko's treatment toward him was much better than his own treatment toward Sai.

The boy grinned in response to Hikaru's praise. Ko took his brush to cloth. "Thank you, Sensei." That too. Even on paper, the boy called him teacher. Hikaru had never called Sai sensei, even though the man had definitely earned it. How he missed Sai…

"Anything exciting in your games?" Hikaru asked. It was very interesting to hear the boy's take on his matches as Ko recreated them on the ancient goban. Ko nodded enthusiastically, an action that would likely break his neck if he did not tone it down. He was always so motivated.

He wrote quickly on the cloth. "Awesome Ko battle!" Hikaru had to smile. Ko liked that rule, it seemed, when he first began playing. The boy remined him so much of Kenji at that moment.

He watched the game unfold before him, and he could not help but gasp at the boy's amazing foresight. His moves had been flawless and so very creative! They spoke of Shusaku's moves too, but that was only to be expected since he had learned from Hikaru who had learned from Sai who had been Shusaku. Did other people notice the boy's talent? Surely he would have caught some eyes by now. He was probably better than Toya had been at this age!

"Now that, that is a great move," Hikaru marveled, but frowned at the boy's next move. "What happened here?" It was an aggressive attack, probably too early in the game to be had.

Ko blushed and looked down. Slowly, he wrote, "Distracted—cousin came in with dinner." And it certainly reflected in the boy's game. Hikaru laughed as he saw the rest of the game and its hasty end. He could have figured it out just from looking at it; after that point, it seemed Ko had tried to finish the game as quickly as possible. "I guess it's excusable…but for the next game, try to draw it out as long as possible. Play a teaching game with your mother instead, but don't let her realize it." Ko had never played a teaching game. Hikaru wasn't even sure if the boy could, but he was sure that the boy could learn.

"It's not just going easy on an opponent. You create situations for her to figure out. But do it subtly. That is your next challenge!" Hikaru had been assigning the boy challenges ever since he realized the boy's potential. He had had several: create as many Ko situations as possible in one game, win by more than sixty points, things like that. Ko always seemed to enjoy them.

But this time, the boy was frowning. Ko pulled a sheet of paper out, not white, but definitely paper, and a smaller brush than usual. It seemed he had something important to say. Hesitantly, brush touched paper. "I played against some weird guy today—he said he liked me, even though I was really nervous. Now wants to have his teacher teach me Go too. You don't mind, do you, Sensei?"

Hikaru had mixed feelings. Should he encourage the boy to do that? What if the new teacher became frustrated at Ko's lack of voice? Worse, could this man teach Ko better than Hikaru could? Hikaru felt something strange, a pulling sensation at his heart. He needed to do what was best for Ko, and having two teachers would probably benefit him…or it might simply be too stressful on the seven-year old. Hikaru was not sure what was best, but he did know that he would support the boy in any road he chose. "I do not mind at all, Ko. Do what you think is best. I'll always keep teaching you, as long as you'll have me." Hikaru felt uneasy at his own words. What if Ko didn't want him? What if he tired of the ghost? After all, Hikaru couldn't leave the goban, and even he as child would not have done any of this for another person. Ko was always so selfless…

Hikaru wasn't sure when he started caring more for Ko's education than his own gratification. Hikaru wasn't used to thinking of others before himself, but he had been working on it for years—ever since Sai's departure. Ko had already done so much, so very much, that Hikaru would be a selfish jerk were he to forbid Ko from gaining another teacher. "I am sure you will learn much from this new teacher. But know that I will always be the one who first taught you."

"Oof!" Hikaru, not quite felt, but sensed a presence wrapped around his waist. And there, the young boy was hugging the air with all his might, assuring Hikaru that they would not be separated anytime soon. "Thank you, Ko," and Hikaru tried to pat the boy's back. He wasn't sure if Ko could feel it, but it felt appropriate.

The boy pulled away and faced Hikaru with glee. "So, why don't you recreate the game between you and the 'some weird guy'?" He asked the boy.

Ko shrugged and picked up his brush. "Are you sure?"

Hikaru was confused. Was there something about this game that he didn't want Hikaru to see? "Why?" he asked.

"It was boring."

January approached, and Hikaru only knew that because Ko had decided to tell him how long it was until his birthday—which was quite a ways away. Hikaru's was even further, but there really was no reason for the conversation anyway. It just seemed that something was on the boy's mind.

He did have to wonder how the boy got around Go and life in general without being able to speak. Sometimes Ko would mouth something, but never did Hikaru hear a thing. And he could never lip-read to save his life.

Despite the boy's silence, Hikaru had learned a lot about him: his last name was Kurahara, or perhaps Kuwabara (lip-reading was still difficult for Hikaru), his father had money—but was not rich, and Ko always kept tabs on how far away his birthday was. Hikaru supposed it was because of the game he promised him. He had said that on the day of Ko's eighth birthday, he would play a completely serious, equal game. So far, he had always gone easy on him—always a teaching game. Ko always took black. But that day, they would play as equals, and Hikaru would be black. A symbol of his confidence in his growing pupil, not that Ko was better than him.

"Is something the matter?" Hikaru asked, seeing his student looking uneasily between the goban and Hikaru. At first, the child shook his head, but then he sighed and picked up the ink-stained brush.

"Played a man today."

Hikaru didn't see the problem in that statement. Ever since the 'other teacher,' as Ko called him, started to teach, Ko had always played different opponents. He never seemed to run out of them. "Anything special about this one?"

"They want to take me to Edo."

Was Ko really that good compared to everyone else? Hikaru was astounded by his student. Were the boy's teachers so enamored with him, that they sought to further his education in another city? "How far away is it? If it's not far, you can visit..." Hikaru dreaded the answer. If it was just a town or two away, he could deal with that—seeing the boy every two weeks or so. He could work with that. But if it was a long way away, the boy would not be able to visit often. "How far?" The question burned, because Hikaru would never stop his student from growing, even if it killed him. Not Ko. The boy was too good, too amazing, for Hikaru to stop him. He needed to nourish the boy's talent, not impair it. But he didn't want to part from the boy, either.

The boy seemed nervous as he held his brush. Shakily, ever so hesitantly, he wrote, "about seven hundred kilometers. Just," pause, "seven," pause, "hun—" And he stopped. The boy's shoulders shook a bit and he looked up at his teacher.

Hikaru wasn't sure how to respond. "So I guess you won't be visiting every other week, then?" he laughed hollowly. The boy's shaking grew violent, and a few tears leaked from his eyes. The boy was mouthing something, probably trying to say something, but Hikaru had no idea unless the boy wrote. Ko frantically took the brush and in his haste, accidentally broke it in half. Without a sound.

And the boy, in his frustration, took both halves, and threw them against the wall. And then a man stormed in, slammed the door open noiselessly, and then started a silent verbal fight with the boy. The man was gesturing at the goban and arguing with Ko at the same time. It wasn't as energized as the arguments Hikaru's had always seen on the television—but it might have been because he did not hear a word of their argument. It cooled down quickly once the man saw Ko's tear-stained face, and the man quickly hugged the boy, muttering something. Probably apologies. Hikaru couldn't tell.

The realization hit him hard. He couldn't hear a thing. Not a single thing. He had lived in the goban for three years, and he never noticed that he heard not one bird sing, not one go stone land on the board before him? Had he never noticed the lack of sound when he saw the rain? He never noticed the silence as Ko's brush slid across cloth, across paper, thousands of times? Of course there was always light, and Ko would always look at Hikaru when he said anything...And he had imagined something was wrong with Ko! But no, the boy was more of a genius than Hikaru had ever thought! To think the boy had come up with a solution—lip-reading—before Hikaru even realized the problem!

The man, Hikaru figured it was Ko's father, the merchant, left. Alone with Ko, Hikaru finally asked, "Can you hear me?" Ko looked at him strangely—just as he had the first time Hikaru had tried talking to him. He shakily procured another brush from elsewhere in the room. "You know I can't." And that cinched it. Hikaru's only link to the physical world was his appearance.

Was he being punished? He had saved Sai from a horrible fate! He hadn't even committed any crime! His Sai had killed himself and had been able to at least talk to his host and follow him around. Hikaru had been executed. Did that not have some merit? In the eyes of God, could that have possibly been worse than suicide? Maybe because he had messed with fate, maybe because Sai should have died, Hikaru was being punished. But nothing really made sense, and Hikaru felt the weight of his death fall more heavily upon him than ever.

And he knew he shouldn't have accepted the chance to reach the Hand of God anyway. He would never touch, never hear another go stone. Destiny was crap. "What was the argument about?" he asked about instead. There was no use dwelling on such morbid thoughts.

The boy cocked his head to the side. Quickly, he wrote, "First about the noise—then we were arguing about the goban," he looked up at Hikaru, "I told him I needed to take it with me if I was to go to Edo, but Father said it was too valuable, and I could only take it when I have proven myself to be worthy of such a good goban."

Hikaru did not even have to think before he had his answer. "Ko," Hikaru took a deep steadying breath, "Go to Edo." Hikaru knew he really wasn't meant for this world. It just wasn't right. The gods had thoroughly screwed him over, and all he wanted now was a nice peaceful existence away from everything. Away from everything.

"Are you sure?" Ko still seemed really nervous, not quite hysterical, but worried.

Hikaru nodded, unwavering. He would push Ko to go as far as the boy could, to reach all heights. This student—maybe he would be the one to reach the Hand of God, just as he had intended for Oka or Rui. Ko would be amazing, and if Hikaru was right, would be just as good, or maybe even better than Honinbo Shusaku. "When will you leave?" Hikaru made sure to pronounce his words very clearly to make reading his lips easier.

"Two months after your birthday."

"Such a long time from now! What were you crying about, geez!" Hikaru was relieved. Hikaru could never work well when people were crying. And he still had more than half a year with Ko; he would make it the best ever. Every moment, he would treasure, and every move he would analyze. He would never take Ko for granted as he had Sai. And he would teach the boy everything he knew, until he could teach no longer. Hikaru hoped he would never see that day.

"What are we waiting for? Let's play!" And obediently, Ko had a game set up. Such a good boy, really.

After Ko left, Hikaru had nothing to fill the void. He was worried about fading away, since he felt a certain tug every now and then. It didn't happen too often, at most twice a month, but it was enough to worry him. He wanted to be there for Ko, but he couldn't receive any letters from the boy, and no one knew of his existence except Ko himself. It felt like forever, but finally, the boy was back.

"KOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Hikaru shouted at the boy's arrival. He had settled his feelings about death and his complete intangibility, and only sought to show him how happy he was at Ko's return. "Ko! Ko! How are you? How many people did you beat? What level have they given you? 10 Kyu? No, way too easy, 5 kyu! 1 Kyu! Pro? Are you a pro?" He supposed he might have been talking too quickly, because all Ko did was laugh and pull out a fancy scroll. He revealed a dark, cherry wood red brush out and dipped it in an ink pot that had stayed untouched and unopened for nearly two years.

With quick and graceful strokes, he wrote: "Shodan!" He held out a victory hand sign and Hikaru could only dance around in sheer giddiness. Ko was a pro! A real live pro, at such a young age, too! How old was he, ten? Eleven?

Ko must have been really good by now, and Hikaru knew his level was much higher than a mere shodan. Hikaru sorely needed a game. Two years, he hadn't had a game! Two years! "Game! Let's play a game!"

At that, the boy's smile faltered. He pulled the brush across the paper with a graceful acuity that Hikaru had never before witnessed in him. "There is celebration to be had. I must celebrate with the town and the daimyo for my accomplishments. I came here to tell you the good news before telling everyone else. I'll be back tonight, though, and we can play as many games as you'd like!" The writing was elegant, and Ko wrote every word artistically like a seasoned painter, more advanced than any ten year old ought to have been. Although Hikaru felt the need to be selfish, he just smiled and encouraged the boy to have fun. After all, he did become a pro and an incredibly young age—he should be partying, not playing go games with a ghost in a secluded room. Sometimes Hikaru forgot that Ko was still just a kid.

Night seemed forever to come, but once it did, it was probably the best night of Hikaru's ghostly life. The play was excellent, much higher than the shodans in Hikaru's time. If he were honest, he would have to say that Ko's Go was at the level of a 3-dan, at the least, maybe even 5-dan—though that might have been pushing it. Ko's reading abilities had heightened even more, and when finally the boy grew too tired, Hikaru asked the question that had been stirring in his mind ever since he saw Ko return.

"When…when are you going back?"

Ko smiled kindly. He seemed happy, content. "I have one year here before I return to Edo," he wrote, once again using that graceful quickness.

Hikaru was satisfied with that. That was more time than he would have guessed, though it was less time than he would have wanted. He wanted to play against Ko until the end of their days, but keeping him in this little town would be a ridiculous waste of talent.

"But I still have much to teach you, and only a year to do so!" As if mocking his words, the year ended much too quickly for Hikaru.

Ko was there, standing before the goban. "I'll miss you, Ko." Hikaru decided to settle in for another two years. Maybe even more. But he would not make it harder for his student to leave him behind. Ko pulled out paper this time, white and slick, and dipped his fancy brush into the pot of ink he had always used.

"You're coming with me, Sensei."

Hikaru was shocked. What? What was this? "How? But your father, he said—"

Ko ignored him and continued writing, "I am a Shodan. I have proved my ability, my worth, and now the goban is mine. Shall forever be mine. And you, Sensei, you shall accompany and we shall play go until the very last star falls from the sky!"

Hikaru was shocked as he felt tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. The happiness, the sheer ecstasy he felt at those words—he would go with Ko! And Ko would never abandon him again! It was perfect, absolutely perfect, and Hikaru felt that this was possibly the best day of his ghostly life. It was much better than the Ko's first night back—he would have ages to play! And he would forever play Ko until they reached the Hand of God. It was nothing like having his rival Toya Akira, but he would reach it with someone.

"Thank you," Hikaru said. For now, that was enough.

Hikaru looked out from the carriage as Ko boarded. It was strange, because he had never ridden in one, even in the Heian Era. For some reason…the land looked familiar. "Ko," he said, but the boy was looking at the landscape as well. Hikaru tried tapping the boy's shoulder with his fan, but it had no effect. "Ko!" He moved so that he blocked the view of the land and glared at his student.

"Aah!" the boy yelled. Of course, Hikaru didn't hear him—he could easily tell that the boy had made a loud sound because the carriage stopped and a few men inspected the carriage. They spoke with Ko, and the boy looked embarrassed as he was brushing the incident off. This whole not hearing thing could quickly become a problem.

"Ko," Hikaru said, once he was sure he had the boy's attention. "What town are we in?"

The boy unsheathed some paper and quickly scrawled, "Innoshima," before turning away again in annoyance to watch the scenery.

Innoshima? This is where Shusaku lived! He should visit the man's grave. But if it was indeed the 18th century, Shusaku would not be born for more than thirty years. Maybe he could come back in thirty years, maybe he could see Sai! No wonder it was so familiar. Every natural landmark was the same, and even the rolling hills remained constant for millennia. "Honinbo…the Go Saint…" Hikaru muttered to himself. Apparently Ko had been watching him, and slowly, he wrote, "You mean Honinbo Dosaku?" Hikaru had to chuckle—of course, Shusaku wasn't born yet—and just nodded the affirmative to Ko's question.

The boy smiled and sat back. Hikaru sat beside him, and before he knew it, his student was soundly asleep. Days passed, and they played Go whenever they could, with Ko placing his moves for him. Many people just thought Ko was recreating the many games he had played at the capital, and stood in awe at the boy's ability to remember matches. Hikaru didn't blame them for thinking that—Ko probably could recreate all of his matches. He had the amazing memory to do so if he wished.

The capital was, of course, no longer in Kyoto. Hikaru didn't know why, but he had expected the Great Palace—the huge enclosure with buildings, and rooms, and the river right there…he didn't expect this. And it hurt all the more when he remembered that the Great Palace had burnt down completely.

They were at some kind of school, as far as Hikaru could tell. "Ko, wake up," Hikaru said. He knew the boy couldn't hear him, but he could hope. He tapped the boy with his fan, but still the boy wouldn't awake. The boy was completely unaware of his presence. He was reminded sharply of Sai's departure…and tried to ignore the oncoming flashback. So he sat back down and waited for someone else to awaken his student.

A man peeked into the carriage and quickly shook the boy awake. They had a quick conversation, during which Hikaru decided he needed to learn to lip-read, and they left. Ko held the goban tightly against his chest, allowing no one to take it from him. Hikaru felt a burst of pride and affection for his student. The boy really did care.

And Ko clutched the goban, never letting it leave his arms, until he reached his room. He flicked out some paper and wrote, "Now, decide: stay in here, in my quarters, where I can play you every night and every morning, or stay in the official Go-room, where you can watch games from morning to night."

Hikaru wondered why Ko thought it would be a hard choice. After all, he could still watch Ko play if he were in the official room…but then Hikaru wouldn't be able to play. Would he? "I would not be able to play while in the official Go room?"

Ko shook his head sadly. He picked up the brush again. "I can pretend I am recreating games, though some might notice that I am creating games that never existed. But I cannot write to you." It made sense. What would people think if Ko started writing to his Sensei, when all the players would be in the room? Yet Hikaru knew what he would do. If Ko spent all day playing games and had to come back only to play more games, wouldn't he grow tired? Hikaru had to think of the best solution, not just for himself, but for his student.

"The Go-room. I'll learn to read lips," Hikaru decided. Ko looked at him doubtfully and Hikaru glared. He could do it! He could learn anything! "It can't be too hard, since you learned."

Ko stuck his tongue out, and Hikaru was reminded that Ko was only twelve years old. Such a young talented child. Hikaru smiled to himself and informed him, "I was your age when I started playing." He had never revealed anything about his past to Ko; he had only dedicated himself to teaching and trying to reach the Divine Move.

And Ko seemed fascinated. He swiftly penned a response, "Really? You never talk about yourself."

Hikaru wondered. Did he really? Even Sai had told him about his death, about his reason. Had he never told Ko anything other than he wanted to play Go? He supposed he hadn't. But of course, his story would have a lot of words, and lip-reading could only do so much. Despite the setback, Hikaru thought of what he would say. "I lived in the Heian," Hikaru figured time-travel would seem too far-fetched to the young boy, "I was executed for impersonating someone of the Imperial Court."

Now Ko was looking at him with trepidation in his eyes. Hikaru thought of laughing but pushed it down. "A friend of mine asked me to stay and be him for a year while he traveled, looking for someone who could help him reach the Hand of God. I was uncovered, and executed before he could explain. But I seek the Hand of God as well, which is why I have not moved on. I need—I need it." Ko seemed saddened by the story and sought to hold his teacher's hand. Of course, neither could truly feel the touch, but seeing it and feeling his student's sympathy helped Hikaru let go of some of his sorrow.

Ko sighed and pulled his hand from Hikaru to start writing something. "So, the Go-room?" Hikaru nodded enthusiastically and grinned when Ko picked up the goban and walked as fast as decorum allowed him toward the room. Hikaru was amazed at the amount of gobans and players amassed in the room.

"So many, so many enthusiastic players!" Hikaru exclaimed. Of course, Ko wasn't looking at him, so he never saw Hikaru's immediate reaction. Ko gently placed the haunted goban in the middle of the room so that Hikaru could see every goban somewhat clearly.

"Thank you! You're great!" Hikaru shouted happily as he hugged the boy as tightly as possible. "This will be great!"

It was. For a while. For a long while. In two years, Hikaru had learned how to lip-read, and he continued to play Ko. His student was progressing nicely, and Hikaru could tell that the boy was much better than any of his peers. But there were always a few problems. Rather, one big problem that left Hikaru's mind whirling.

In the middle of a game between him and Ko, he felt more than saw a shadow move behind him. "Who the heck would play a game like that?" another student asked, or Hikaru thought he asked. He was older than Ko, probably in his early twenties, and seemed to have a higher dan rank. Ko was a 4-dan, but Hikaru wasn't sure how strong that was in this era. In his own life, a 4-dan rank would not have sufficed for him when he was fourteen

Both Ko and Hikaru looked down at the board in consternation. What was the other boy talking about? The boy was pointing to a stone. There? The star point? Hikaru asked Ko, and Ko in turn asked the other boy.

"Yeah! Who starts a game on a star point?" Had he been watching the entire game?

Ko shrugged. Hikaru had forgotten that it was practically forbidden to start on a star point…"Tell him it was just a mistake," Hikaru told Ko, and the boy relayed the message.

"It is interesting, though," an older man said, "The other player managed to keep ahead for the entire game. It is not a mistake, and it is not finished though, is it?" He looked to Ko. "Who won?" the man asked. Ko shrugged and tried not to break eye contact with him. Hikaru had seen the man plenty of times, but no one ever told him his name. He was very regal, and was probably in his late-twenties.

"But Shuwa-sensei!" Hikaru snapped his neck back to really pay attention to the boy who had just exclaimed. "Shuwa-sensei, no one plays that move!" Did he say Shuwa? Surely, it was a different Shuwa—not the one who hand-picked and mentored the 'famous Shusaku'.

He looked up at the man Shuwa…maybe he misread. Maybe he was..Zhuwa? Chuwa? Juwa? Hikaru wasn't always right when he lip-read, but the boy seemed to be pronouncing it consistently as "Shuwa." Anyway, the man knelt by the goban and looked each boy, the one who had interrupted and Ko. "It is unusual. It throws the opponent off. Whose game is this?" he asked.

Hikaru watched Ko try to come up with an explanation. He sat right across from Ko, making sure they had eye contact. "Tell him it is the game of an old deceased friend."

"It is an old game betwixt myself and my deceased teacher and friend," Ko said. The Honinbo seemed to deflate, more from relief than disappointment.

"Hm…but you did respond well in this game, child. Let us play," the older man said. It seemed the two knew each other. Of course, Hikaru had seen them playing often, but never had the man smiled warmly as he did now. "To think, you are now a 4-dan!" Shuwa smiled contentedly.

If this really was Shuwa...the one destined to become Honinbo…then he was the only man thought to be better than Shusaku—better than Sai! Hikaru immediately floated before Ko and begged, "Let me play him, please! Just once, only once!" Hikaru supposed his begging seemed to have worked, because Ko sighed and nodded.

But after the two performed nigiri and Ko won black, the boy didn't move anywhere near where Hikaru was pointing. "Ko? Ko, what are you doing? I thought you said—"

"Honinbo Shuwa-sensei," Ko started, looking not at the man, but slightly left to the man, straight at Hikaru. "This game—I intend to play with my full talent. Just me." Hikaru tried not to let the hurt look appear on his face.

"Of course," the older man said. "And I've been looking forward to a very serious game with you," he leaned forward and looked around to make sure no one was watching. The man smiled and whispered, "After all, I have already decided you shall be the next Honinbo."

I looked up the distance from Innoshima to Tokyo on google earth, and it's about 645.25 km going straight, and I figured people generally took winding passages to get from place to place, and it would be a longer route. So I'm pretty sure you guys know what's going on by now, but remember that Hikaru doesn't. It's like dramatic irony, if you will.