Title:desynchronization. Part IX of ?
Main Characters: Ogata, Sai. No pairings currently.
Disclaimer: These lovely characters are the creation of Yumi Hotta and Takeshi Obata. Not mine, I'm just playing in their sandbox.
Spoilers: For the entire series.
Warnings: Ages 16 and up. Mild cursing and sensuality. It's possible the rating will go up eventually.
Word Count:6500
Notes: A big thank you to my betas, aiwritingfic and harumi (on LJ)! Without them, this story wouldn't be half as good.
I made a fairly big change to the story - I decided to make Ogata's mother British instead of Japanese, which required me to make minor edits to Chapters I & IV. Read the notes after the chapter and I'll explain why. :)

"Are you sure you don't want one?"

Ogata Hawke Regina arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at the extended pack of Larks. "No thank you, dear. I'm still quite content with my substitute addiction," she said, nodding towards the red cell phone that gleamed brightly against the dark polish of their table. "Speaking of which, it'll be interesting to see by what percentage my portfolio outperforms yours by today."

Ogata took a leisurely pull at his cigarette before returning his mother's teasing smile. "Well, the Singapore Stock Exchange doesn't close for another fifteen minutes. Isn't your gloating just a little premature?"

"Hardly," Regina replied, amusement glinting in her blue eyes. "To draw an analogy to go, I'd say we're entering yose, and you're too far behind in moku to make up the difference."

Ever since Ogata had started earning enough as a pro to invest his money, he had been engaged in a friendly rivalry with his mother over portfolio performance, and the advancement of Internet technology on cell phones had escalated their game to an entirely new level. With cell phones, they didn't have to be near Internet-accessible computers any longer in order to check stock updates or text each other snide messages. Ogata's skills in picking "winners" had improved over the years, but his mother still beat him three out of every four quarters, a loss ratio which Ogata did not feel too acutely: Regina was an extremely cunning investment banker.

Ogata faked a scowl. "If you're expecting a victory by resignation, I'll have you know I intend to fight until the bitter end – bloody point by bloody point."

"Such language, Seiji. The staff are going to think I birthed you on a naval vessel," Regina chided softly as a suited waiter approached their table, but Ogata could tell she was pleased from the way she was pressing her lips together to suppress a smile before she placed their order. Making an effort to use English (especially British vernacular like "bloody") around his mother was an easy way to make her happy, although she was functionally fluent in Japanese, enough to meet the demands of her profession.

Regina originally hadn't been sensitive about whether Ogata addressed her in English or Japanese, believing that he would naturally grow up bilingual with a little encouragement and study. Then his father had suggested that perhaps they ought to delay Ogata's further lessons in English until he entered junior high school, so his progress in Japanese wouldn't be "hindered."

Ogata had been eight. But he still remembered the exact expression of mingled disbelief and betrayal on his mother's face with perfect clarity, and from that day he'd been careful to speak English around her.

"It's a shame I've been so busy with the new department lately," Regina said after the waiter left. "I wanted to congratulate you sooner on reclaiming the Gosei. How was Okinawa, by the way?"

"Well, the hotel was nice," Ogata replied dryly. "I had hoped to have more time for sight-seeing after the match finished, but the Association scheduled me for several meetings with its affiliate in the area. I had to play shidougo with the president – who likes to hear himself talk, apparently – which was not nearly as entertaining as sitting on the beach and getting sunburned. The Association always keeps our schedules packed when we're traveling on their dime, though."

The corners of Regina's lips twitched. "As a mother, I naturally side with my child, but as a banker, I can't help respecting the Association's frugality."

"You would," Ogata said, frowning.

"Don't pout, Seiji. At least your opponent was that nice Mr. Serizawa, and you weren't stuck in Okinawa for three days with that... horrible old man," Regina said, uttering the epithet with some reluctance.

Ogata stifled a laugh. His mother usually refrained from name-calling, but then again, she was possibly the only person who disliked Kuwabara as much as he did, albeit for slightly different reasons. Kuwabara had been quite taken with Regina upon first sight, a sentiment which was definitely not mutual. "That reminds me, 'that horrible old man' asked about you before I left for Okinawa. He probably expected that I wouldn't win the third game, and the fourth and fifth games would have been held at the Association."

"Oh, and I've attended your title matches in Tokyo before. I hope he wasn't intending to try to coax me into playing golf with him again." Regina winced at the recollection, fine wrinkles crinkling around her eyes. "Well, thank you for winning and sparing me from the trauma of dealing with Kuwabara-sensei." She raised her wine glass in a teasing salute.

Ogata raised his own glass to clink against hers. "Naturally protecting you was my real motive in securing an early victory all along."

"That reminds me, I meant to ask you about your game. Go Weekly had an analysis of the game. I didn't follow that much of it, of course, but it seems the analyst was surprised at some of your moves. He thinks the patterns were unusual compared to your usual style. Is this because you've been studying with a new teacher? Nagiko mentioned him," Regina added, noticing Ogata's surprised expression.

Exactly what had the doctor told his mother? Ogata wondered, his jaw tensing. Dr. Kiyohara had been known to take a rather relaxed view of patient privacy rights on occasion, at least when it came to his mother. But Regina's question seemed as if it had been asked out of simple curiosity. Ogata doubted she would sound so neutral if the doctor had happened to mention that Ogata had basically picked up an amnesiac stranger and brought him home. "Oh, did she? I hope she had a good impression of Fujiwara-san," Ogata said blandly. "Yes, I've been studying with him for most of this summer. He's a talented teacher."

"Nagiko said he was charming, and very polite. And younger than you. Is he really an adequate substitute for Touya-sensei, at your level?" Regina asked, looking faintly concerned, and Ogata recalled that she had been quite displeased when Sensei had retired in order to play overseas. Although Regina hadn't said as much, Ogata suspected Regina viewed the retirement as a betrayal. Touya-sensei, after all, had been the one to convince her that letting Ogata become a professional go player was a viable career option.

When Ogata decided to turn pro at the perfectly respectable age of fourteen, his mother had been... difficult to persuade. Upon hearing of their disagreement, Touya-sensei had invited them the two of them to his house, to discuss the matter over tea.

Ogata sipped silently at his drink while his mother complimented Touya-sensei's traditional home and the blend of tea. His mother had even discussed a little Basho after learning that Sensei greatly admired the poet. When the conversation turned towards the subject of the meeting, however, his mother's tone turned distinctly cool. She informed Touya-sensei that Ogata would be permitted to continue his go studies only if he maintained his grades in junior high, and he would earn his high school diploma as planned. Furthermore, Regina stated, if Ogata failed the pro exam, he would immediately begin preparing for the college entrance exams – her son would not be allowed to fruitlessly idle around, waiting for the next chance to take the pro exam.

Touya-sensei had accepted her terms calmly, stating his confidence that Ogata was indeed capable of passing the exam on his first try. His mother thanked Sensei for his reassurance, but expressed concern about Ogata entering such a traditional profession when his heritage was not exactly typical. Touya-sensei shook his head then. "Go is not a Japanese game, nor a Chinese one, nor a Korean one. Nationality, age, gender, upbringing – none of these are relevant on the goban. The game... transcends the limitations of humans," his sensei had said with utter conviction, then offered to introduce her to some of the Association's foreign-born players.

"Your teacher is an idealist," Regina told Ogata after the meeting. They were sitting on a park bench, and Ogata admired the way the sun caught in his mother's golden hair as she lit a cigarette. "I'm neither a go player nor a philosopher, so I won't try to address whether or not the game 'transcends' humanity. But keep in mind that, regardless, it's people you'll be playing against, and I know people. No matter what profession, people are just as capable of being cruel and opportunistic, and they'll try to take advantage of you. Just make sure you're choosing something you really love, so it will be still be worth it."

With a smile, Ogata looked at his mother across the dinner table; now he was the one who smoked, and his mother's hair was silvering. But he hadn't forgotten her advice, or that despite her initial misgivings, she had never failed to support his go. "Fujiwara-san is Touya-sensei's equal," he said simply.

His mother's eyebrows shot up. "At such a young age? He must be very skilled to compensate for his relative lack of experience."

Ogata shook his head at his mother's reasoning. "He is skilled, but his greatest strength is his experience. I'm at a loss to explain the discrepancy myself, but the depth of his play can only come through his having played thousands of games."

"I thought that usually a player didn't reach the thousand game mark until late in his or her career," Regina said, glancing over her shoulder as the waiter arrived with their salads.

"Fujiwara-san's not a professional," Ogata said, stubbing his cigarette out. "I haven't reached the thousand game mark in my professional matches either, but I've easily played that many if you count my unofficial games. But not all of those were against quality opponents, so they didn't contribute much to my growth. But Fujiwara-san's experience suggests he's played many very strong opponents, and often. I have wondered exactly who he has played to develop such strength. There are some professionals who play online, but only when their schedules permit it."

Regina finished her bite of salad. "Then why don't you just ask him?"

Ogata chewed slowly to give himself time to compose a decent answer. He really didn't want to tell his mother that Fujiwara was an amnesiac because that could very easily lead to an uncomfortable line of questioning, given his mother's perceptiveness. "Well, everyone's entitled to a few secrets, I suppose," he offered weakly.

Regina looked amused. "That may have some truth, Seiji, but it's certainly not your credo. Yours is more along the lines of 'I'm entitled to my secrets and yours too.' You've always been verycurious."

"A little curiosity is perfectly healthy. And I'm sure I'll find out some answers, in due time," Ogata said. If Fujiwara ever regained the rest of his memory, a prospect which Ogata had privately come to suspect was growing more distant as time passed.

"Well then, you seem confident," his mother remarked, and Ogata merely smiled in response as he finished his salad off. The most complete memory Fujiwara had recalled to date was still the one about his friend dying, the friend Fujiwara couldn't even remember. Ogata had taken Fujiwara back to visit the memory specialist again, but the specialist's advice had basically boiled down to "keep up with your journal" and "take things one day at a time." At least this time, Fujiwara's expression had been one of resigned acceptance, instead of that vulnerable look he'd worn during the first visit.

If Fujiwara didn't remember -- well, he should stay. Until he figured out what he was going to do.

"You'll have to introduce us sometime. I'm curious to meet him, especially since he sounds like a bit of a mystery. By the way, you never did get around to introducing me to Inoue-san. Are you two still together? You haven't mentioned her in awhile."

Ogata felt his cheeks heating up at the thought of his mother meeting Fujiwara, which was definitely odd. Perhaps it was because he'd more or less been responsible for Fujiwara's re-education, and was therefore partially responsible for the image Fujiwara presented. "I'll have to arrange something, then," Ogata said. "And no, Inoue-san got tired of me being too busy during my Juudan preparations. It was an amicable break-up, though." Inoue was a sharp woman who might have gotten along well with his mother (compared to some of his dates, anyway) but it had seemed pointless to introduce her since their relationship had always been rather casual. Still, Regina had been happy to hear the occasional details he shared about Inoue, and had even taken to reading theYomiuri Shimbun because Inoue had a column in it.

"Really? I thought she was rather busy herself, working at the paper. One would think she ought to be understanding about a packed schedule," Regina said crossly as she speared at a stubborn cherry tomato.

"I suppose the travel could have also been a factor. Her position doesn't require travel and mine does," Ogata said, hoping that his mother wouldn't pry much further. Ogata suspected that his mother feared he was incapable of maintaining a long-term relationship and had been relieved to be provided with evidence to the contrary; he had dated Inoue for almost a year. As logical and calculating as Regina usually was, she was his mother, and Ogata supposed that all mothers liked to fret about that sort of thing. At least she had never been the sort to nag about grandchildren. If she ever did, Ogata planned to present her with some of his guppies' numerous offspring.

By the time their main course had been served, Ogata had successfully steered the conversation away from himself and his last relationship to his mother's new position as vice president of the European department at Barclays' Tokyo branch. Regina had worked for Nomura Securities for over twenty years, but had remained firmly stuck in middle management, despite her obvious talent. The glass ceiling was still rather thick in certain Japanese professions, and bankers and financiers tended to be conservative at best and stagnant at worst. Regina had finally gotten irritated enough at Nomura Securities to allow herself to be lured away by Barclays' promise of her own department at the salary she actually deserved.

Judging from her remarks, the move had been a good one overall. Regina enjoyed having the authority to hack through red tape at her discretion, and she also liked having the authority to hire her own subordinates, instead of simply having to make do with whatever employees were handed to her.

"When you fire employees, do you use a special hand gesture like Sir Alan Sugar?"

Regina cut her eyes at him like she'd been asked that question more than once. "I make good hires, so I haven't needed to let anyone go. And since when do you watch reality shows?"

"I was bored. But I only watched enough episodes to feel pleased that I don't have a boss to report to. Especially one with such ugly hair."

"Don't be catty, Seiji," Regina admonished, waving her fork at him. "You have a nice head of hair now, but male pattern baldness is more common than you'd think."

"Ah, but it doesn't run in your family," Ogata smirked. "So I just have to worry about Masato's side."

Regina's eyes dimmed, and Ogata immediately regretted the thoughtless mention of his father. His mother had been the one to leave, but she had never shown any interest in remarrying. Ogata had often wondered why.

His mother noticed his expression and gave him a thin smile. "You didn't upset me, dear. You just reminded me of a bit of unpleasant business we have to attend to. I was putting it off because I didn't want to ruin our time together."

Ogata felt his blood chill as his mother rummaged through her handbag and fished out an envelope.

"This was addressed to me, but there were two letters inside. This one is for you. Apparently an article about your Gosei win ran in some other paper besides Go Weekly, and your father read it. I suppose he felt obligated to send us a note," Regina said, looking down and pretending to be preoccupied with her dinner while Ogata looked at the letter in his hand.

Part of Ogata wanted to simply crumple the letter up. Or burn it. Too bad he'd extinguished his cigarette earlier. But it had been well over twenty years since he'd seen his father, and his accursed curiosity got the better of him.

The letter was brief, the sentences short and concise. It felt almost like an impersonal update, except for the "Dear Seiji" at the beginning. His father, ever the practical businessman.

Masato had gotten remarried and had two children, a boy and a girl. He was still working for the same company. He had been surprised to learn that Ogata had become a professional go player, but he had been reassured by his co-workers that a successful go career was financially secure, so he was "pleased" Ogata had done well for himself.

In the last paragraph, his father had written a phone number along with the suggestion to give him a call. Underneath the number: It's been some time. Perhaps it might be beneficial for us to renew our relationship. Hoping this letter finds you well. --Ogata Masato.

Ogata snorted and tossed the letter onto the table. "What an insufferable jackass. 'Renew our relationship' ? We don't have one, and I'm certainly not interested in starting one."

"Perhaps it wouldn't necessarily be... a bad idea," his mother suggested quietly.

Ogata looked at her sharply. He'd expected her to be vehemently opposed to the idea. After the separation, Regina had taken care to send his father occasional letters about Ogata, along with a calendar of school activities and the like so that his father could attend. But his father never replied, never called, and never visited. By the time Ogata had entered junior high, Regina had sworn to never waste her time with "that man" again.

"Why would you say that? I fail to see how it could be 'beneficial' in any way."

Regina pinched at the bridge of her nose. "Please don't misinterpret me. I'm not saying that my feelings towards your father have changed in any way, or that I think he's somehow become a... stronger person. I certainly don't intend to answer his letter, other than to let him know that I received it, and that I gave you yours. He's not my husband anymore. But he's still your father." She took a deep breath. "I haven't necessarily grown any wiser since then, but I've learned some things along the way. That there is a value in keeping some relationships, even if they're not necessarily 'ideal', and we don't even particularly like the other person. Perhaps this is a chance you've been given for a reason."

Ah. So that was what this was about. Ogata felt his annoyance fading and he softened his tone. "I know you just want what you think is right for me. But he hurt you. I still haven't forgotten that. I don't need that relationship. I don't need him. I don't want him."

His mother's eyes were gentle as she reached out to pat at his hand. "It still hurts, doesn't it? There's value in forgiveness, too."

Ogata put his hand gently over hers and smiled wryly. "Now Mother, confess. You're worried that I'm doomed to become a bitter old bachelor just because I don't like my father."

"Well, you've obviously found me out. But seriously, please think about what I've said. I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy. I have my Go, a fast car, a fish tank, and a beautiful mother."

With a laugh, Regina pulled her hand back. "When did my son become such a lying flatterer?"

"Lying? Our waiter keeps blushing every time he comes to our table, and I rather doubt it's me. Maybe you should slip him your cell phone number."

Regina gave him a scandalized look. "I think you have a wild imagination, and that waiter is young enough to be my son."

Ogata arched his eyebrows. "Oh, so you were looking. I've always admired your ambition, have I told you that?"

"You've become very cheeky, Seiji. Obviously I've failed to discipline you properly."

They finished dinner with similar pleasant, familiar banter, and Ogata was relieved that they did not speak of that man again. But when they got up to leave, his mother wordlessly pressed the abandoned letter into his palm. Out of respect for her, he folded the letter up neatly and slid it into his back pocket.

He could always burn it later.

After escorting his mother to her car, Ogata walked back to his Mazda, and he recalled the exact moment he'd decided he hated his father.

Ogata is ten. He is ten, and he's come home from school with his second bloody nose in three weeks.

Frankly, Ogata figures he's earned this particular injury for being stupid enough to smart off to a giant-sized wanker. The next time Ogata has a disagreement, he's going to just pretend to give in and secretly wait for the first opportunity to sneak something nasty into the bully's locker. (That bully has pissed off so many students that he'll never be able to figure out which victim has vandalized his locker.)

His mother scolds him as she inspects his injury, but Ogata stubbornly maintains that he just fell down on his bicycle. Anything is better than having her call his homeroom teacher; not even bullied students like a snitch.


When his father returns home, however, he doesn't bother to interrogate Ogata; instead, he heaves a long-suffering sigh at the sight of Ogata's tissue-wadded nose, a sigh that suggests he isn't surprised in the least to find his son bloodied again. Then, his father turns to his mother to propose that they start dyeing Ogata's hair black. "It's natural for other kids to pick on him when he stands out so much. If he blends in more, then he'll have an easier time fitting in," his father reasons, in the same neutral tones Ogata has heard him using around his business associates to discuss contracts.

Regina's eyes flash, and she even raises her voice. "Hair dye? Why didn't I think of that magic solution? Perhaps you'd prefer if I dyed my hair black too; would it make me a better housewife?"

Slowly, his father blinks, taken aback by the outburst. "This doesn't have to do with you. And if you're still upset about staying at home, then we can see about finding you employment somewhere. But like I said before, it will be difficult to find you a position at the level you want, even with your degree since--"

Regina cuts him off with a soft, bitter laugh. "It has everything to do with me. My son has everything to do with me. I don't want him dyeing his hair any more than I want him pretending he can't speak English. Would you want him to wear color contacts as if he were ashamed to be your son?"

His father hisses air through his teeth as if he is being confronted by a particularly obtuse and stubborn client. "His eye color isn't the problem here. You're blowing this out of proportion."

His mother doesn't argue. She turns away from his father and buries her face against Ogata's neck. Her face feels damp against his skin, and he glares at his father for making her cry.

Exasperated, his father shakes his head. "I have a headache now. I'm going to get a drink so I can unwind and think this over," he announces and leaves the room.

Three weeks later, his mother walks out, taking a car packed with boxes and Ogata. Neither of them looks back.

Ogata pulled up to a stoplight. He thought it was one of the best decisions she'd ever made. And he still hated his father, silly letter nonetheless. Ogata hated him for being weak. Because his father had been weak, he'd been too concerned with trying to fit in at his company and please his very traditional parents. He'd failed to support his wife properly, and in the end he'd simply seemed relieved when she had walked out, taking their son with her.

There were not many people who Ogata actually gave a damn about. But if Ogata thought he were about to lose one of those people, he certainly wouldn't just sit back and let it happen. Ogata was a go player, and he knew how to fight. He knew what he wanted, and he was never going to let weakness hold him back from it.

He was nothing like his father.

"I'm back," Ogata called out, slipping his shoes off in the apartment's entranceway. But there was no answer, and Ogata frowned. Was Fujiwara still out? It was already dark. Ogata had discouraged Fujiwara from returning home late, warning him that it wasn't safe in Shinjuku. Fujiwara usually obliged him, but Fujiwara was also prone to losing track of time if he got distracted (the usual culprit was a game of go, of course.)

When Ogata entered the kitchen, he was pleased to see that the light in the living room was on. There was the faint pachi pachi of stones clacking on the goban.

Fujiwara had both goke and a printed kifu beside him on the floor, but he did not glance at the kifu as he smoothly laid out the stones.

Quietly, Ogata padded into the room to get a better look at the partially completed game. He stroked his chin in consideration; there was something very familiar about the flow of the patterns even though only a few hands had been recreated.

"I learned something interesting today."

Ogata started slightly; he hadn't thought Fujiwara had noticed him entering. Fujiwara could be remarkably absorbed when it came to go.

"But it might not be so interesting to you," Fujiwara said as he continued laying out the stones.

"Why would you say that?" Ogata said, breaking his attention away from the goban at the odd tone in Fujiwara's statement. He sounded almost... cold. Fujiwara never sounded cold. And it was decidedly strange that Fujiwara hadn't bothered to look up from the goban yet, especially since he was just recreating a game and not playing an actual opponent.

"Because Ogata-sensei already knows, and he hates it when people tell him things he already knows." Fujiwara's level voice wavered for a moment, and Ogata looked sharply at his bent face. Fujiwara's drawn expression and his reddened eyes didn't match that cool tone.

Ogata felt his stomach twist. He'd seen Fujiwara upset before; the other man was sensitive, but Ogata had never personally made him cry. Ogata mentally reviewed the past few days, but dredged up nothing out the ordinary. He had teased Fujiwara about wearing lip gloss on Sunday, but Fujiwara had beamed and coyly offered to buy Ogata his own favorite flavor. "I apologize if I hurt your feelings somehow, but I assure you, it certainly wasn't intentional."

Fujiwara did not respond for a long moment, and the only sound in the room was the clacking of go stones. Ogata looked down at the board again, wondering why Fujiwara persisted in replaying a game when he was obviously wasn't enjoying it; what was so special abo—

Abruptly, Ogata froze, harsh recognition dawning on him like an unforgiving sun. That game.

"I want to believe that, but I can't," Fujiwara said softly, still not meeting his eyes. "When we first met, you said you'd never heard of me. But yet you recognize this game."

s a i vs. touya kouyo. The black and white stones stared up at him accusingly like silent witnesses. You knew, you knew!

"s a i was my handle on the NetGo server when I played this game. But s a i has a more personal meaning to me. My name is Fujiwara-no-Sai. 'Sai' is my given name."

Ogata was unable to pull his eyes off the game, his head suddenly feeling oddly heavy. He'd known without a doubt that Fujiwara was s a i since their first game, but somehow he'd let himself completely downplay the significance of Fujiwara's net identity, and what that knowledge might mean to Fujiwara's recovery. He had been wrong. Horribly wrong.

"Did... you really not know I was s a i?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Ogata could see Fujiwara looking up at him, his wide eyes vulnerable and hopeful. As if he were perfectly willing to believe that this was all a big misunderstanding or a mistake, if Ogata would just say so.

Ogata wanted to. He wanted to lie so much that he was nearly overcome by the intensity of that desire.

But he couldn't lie to Fujiwara, not when Fujiwara was looking at him like that. "I knew." The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

Fujiwara visibly crumpled, his shoulders sagging. "Did you have a reason for not telling me?"

Not a good one. Mostly, he hadn't wanted to share Fujiwara with Sensei, a reason which had seemed perfectly valid at the time, but now just seemed damned petty, especially now that he knew Fujiwara as more than an amnesiac stranger with an amazing ability. "It was never my intention to hurt you."

Fujiwara's face fell. "I don't understand. You've been very kind to me, taking me into your home and trying to help me regain my memory. I know it was our agreement that I could live here in exchange for the teaching, but you've been my teacher too: you taught me about all the important things I've forgotten, like the trains and fire alarms and cell phones and not answering the door for that NHK man. You've been my friend. So I don't understand why..."

I don't understand why you would be so selfish. Ogata knew what Fujiwara had left unspoken out of kindness or politeness. "I didn't think it was... relevant. You were completely anonymous online. I didn't think you would learn any useful information."

"How could you just decide that by yourself, without discussing it with me?" Fujiwara's fingers tightened around his fan. "When you know nothing, everything is relevant," he said, his voice low. "Today, I learned my name. I learned the name of your teacher: this game I played with him is the best game I've ever played. I learned that other people know of me, they've played me, and some of them want to play me again. I actually existed before my accident; I'm connected in some way." Fujiwara made a little pained noise then and turned towards the balcony, facing away from Ogata, but not before Ogata saw his lower lip trembling. "Why was Waya-sensei the one to tell me all this instead of you?"

Waya... that red-headed student of Morishita's. Of course. Against all odds, Fujiwara had bumped into zelda, a fan who would recognize his style immediately. Ogata's fingers itched for a cigarette, something to distract himself from the fact that Fujiwara was crying because he'd been betrayed by the first person he'd met in his new life, a person he'd obviously trusted far more than he ought.

Ogata had no answer for Fujiwara. He had no justification. Just a tight, aching sensation in his chest.

"I've imposed too much on your generosity," Fujiwara said towards the direction of the balcony, wiping at his face as he took a few deep breaths. "You've done so much for me, and I could only play go with you in return. But you don't need me; you have an excellent teacher and you're already very skilled. I'm certain you will go far in your career."

Fujiwara was leaving. Of course he was. He couldn't even stand to look at Ogata anymore. It was ending, and it was Ogata's fault again. "What will you do?" Ogata asked numbly.

"Iwamoto-san offered me a job at his salon recently. I would watch the counter and answer the phone, and play games with the customers when I'm not busy. He says I might as well, since I'm there so much anyway and I get along with the regulars. And... there's someone I can live with for awhile, until I get my own apartment."

It would be difficult for Fujiwara to start out in Tokyo, especially considering the high cost of living and Fujiwara's damaged memory, but Fujiwara wasn't the type to back down out of fear. That very first time they'd met, Fujiwara had been sopping wet and utterly confused, but still indignant enough to try walking off by himself into the night when Ogata had injured his pride. He wouldn't be able to reason Fujiwara out of his decision, and he could provide little incentive for Fujiwara to want to stay with someone who had hurt him badly.

Ogata was a go player, and a professional player knew when to resign. Only an inexperienced player kept bumbling around when his moves had long lost their effectiveness.

But this was a game Ogata couldn't lose. He couldn't just let Fujiwara leave.

"I'm sorry that this is so sudden," Fujiwara said. His expressive hands were still and folded on top of his knees. "But I've realized that it was unfair for me to simply continue taking advantage of your hospitality until I recover, when I have no idea of when that may be. And I... have to learn to do things for myself instead of being an inconvenience to you, and taking time away from your busy schedule."

An inconvenience? Ogata thought of Fujiwara's awed expression the first time Ogata had taken him the station, or his smirk of childish mischief when he'd successfully managed to spam Ogata's cell phone shortly after learning text messaging. Or the way he just simply knew how to listen when Ogata gave an explanation, his eyes completely intent and head tilted to a slight angle as he absorbed every word. No, it hadn't been about go. But teaching Fujiwara – just being with him - hadn't been an inconvenience at all. Ogata didn't regret a single minute.

"Stay."

Fujiwara's shoulders straightened as if he were steeling himself. "Please, don't ask that. This is better – for both of us."

Ogata was a go player. He knew how to make sacrifices.

"Stay. You don't have to play go with me anymore."

"I'm sorry, did you just say...?" Fujiwara was staring at him from over his shoulder now, his expression one of shock.

"You don't have to play go, or teach go, or even discuss it with me if you don't wish to," Ogata said quietly.

"Why would you want me to stay if I won't play you?"

Fujiwara's tone of utter disbelief felt like a knife twisting in Ogata's gut, especially since Ogata was the one responsible for Fujiwara having the impression that he was only valued for his go. And at first, thathad been true. The arrangement had been made out of pragmatism; Ogata had wanted to play s a i, and Fujiwara had needed a place to stay.

But somewhere along the line, it had stopped being a merely useful arrangement. Ogata wished he'd realized that sooner. His throat tightened when he tried to answer Fujiwara's question. "I'm... concerned about you. There's still a lot I haven't taught you. And I... I'm afraid that the fish have become rather attached to you. They'll probably sulk and won't eat if you're gone."

"That would be unfortunate," Fujiwara said, smiling sadly as if he knew what Ogata was really trying to say. "It's very kind of you to make such an offer, but I don't know..." He bit at his lip and lowered his eyes.

"You don't have to decide now. But regardless of what you choose, there is something you must know. It's about you from before your accident."

Fujiwara jerked his head up to stare at Ogata.

Ogata took a deep breath. It was time to come completely clean. "It's all I know about s a i, other than what Waya-kun already told you. I should warn you, it's only something I suspect strongly because the young man in question won't discuss it with me or anyone."

Fujiwara frowned, looking confused, but he nodded to encourage Ogata to continue.

"A few years ago, a brilliant player appeared out of nowhere - a complete unknown with apparently no sensei or formal training. I'm certain he's the one who arranged the game between you and Touya-sensei, which implies that he was in contact with you. But more than that, when I look at his play, I see your shadow in his moves. There's a pattern to the joseki he uses, the way he reads the board, and how he calculates risk: it reminds me of you. If my instincts are correct, he was your student. And if he was your student, he might know you personally."

"Really?" Fujiwara whispered.

"It's possible, however, that it was just an anonymous online mentoring. I have no way of knowing," Ogata cautioned. "But if you wish, I will put you in contact with him."

"Yes, please," Fujiwara said, his voice wavering. "I don't recall any students, but obviously I was experienced with shidougo before I met you. I hope he'll talk to me... what is his name?"

"Shindou. Shindou Hikaru."

Author's Notes:

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Aiwritingfic was very meticulous as usual, especially in regards to the characterizations. It's wonderful to have a beta who is so committed to the story.

Ogata's Backstory:

Originally, Regina was written as Japanese, but I was discussing it with Ai and she gave me the idea of making Regina a Westerner. I considered it for thirty seconds, and it just clicked. I had always known Regina would be a successful lawyer or banker, and I thought that the stress of that career might have been one of the factors in her divorce. But it just wasn't quite what I wanted. However, the possibilities of an international marriage gave me a lot more ideas as to why Ogata might have become the person he is - being half foreign can be a fairly big deal in a country that is incredibly homogeneous, and it might explain why he seems to maintain a distance with most people, as a result of being considered different when he was young. Ogata's also presented as the most cosmopolitan of the Go players we see in canon - having a British mother would definitely result in Ogata having a broader outlook. I also like British accents. I blame this on growing up watching "Star Trek: The Next Generation" and listening to Patrick Stewart's lovely voice.

It also explains the close relationship I had envisioned between Regina and Ogata - they would have a strong bond since they needed each other's support.

Finally, being deprived of a father at an early age most certainly does affect one's behavior, especially if one thinks that his father "just didn't care." I thought this might explain an element of Ogata's relentless ambition.

Having said all that, I hope that no one has gotten a negative impression about my beliefs regarding international relationships or Japan. I drew on "real life" inspiration for this chapter and sometimes real life isn't 100 peachy. Heh. Feel free to pry if you wish, although I might take it to e-mail.

There are actually a significant number of foreign players in the Nihon Ki-in, including the first Western 9-Dan.

The Confrontation:

Writing the second half was a challenge. We rarely see Sai angry in canon. Mostly, his anger results from someone abusing go to take advantage of a victim. Yet he seems to have no anger about the other go instructor who cheated, just confusion about why someone would possibly taint a game of go. He does get angry when Hikaru won't let him play Touyo Kouyo - because he views it as a betrayal by a friend (but he knows he's wrong, and he feels bad about it.) So I tried to guess at how Sai would react to feeling betrayed by Ogata, who is nonetheless a friend.

Ogata isn't doing so well in the argument. I portrayed it this way after I thought about Ogata's conflict scenes in the manga. When Ogata thinks he can't win (in the hospital and Touya-Sensei and Akira won't speak to him about Sai), he basically accepts that. He doesn't keep pushing; with Sai, he knows he's lost because he's wrong. He seems to be a very logic-centric person, and speaking as a logical-type person, I cannot keep arguing when someone has effectively pointed out that I am wrong.

Also, Sai has had several hours to deal with the shock himself, and think about it, and even have a discussion with Waya and Isumi. Ogata hasn't - he's having to hold a very difficult discussion with no preparation time beforehand (and we know that Ogata is the type who likes preparation to get the upper hand.)

And of course Ogata's emotions are getting tangling up in this. His character profile says he is actually quite a passionate person, although he usually keeps it locked down. Here his emotions are overwhelming him.

So yes, I was writing Ogata's voice to be markedly different from how I usually portray him.

Obviously this is a major turning point of the story... the following chapters will deal with Sai and Hikaru's reunion (which everyone has been asking about, haha), Sai learning about himself, Ogata trying to repair his relationship with Sai, and Akira and Hikaru's relationship. And Touya Kouyo (because eternal rivals are so much fun.)

...this chapter brings the story to 53,300 words, which makes it my longest by far. ;; Thanks for reading this far? I really appreciate your feedback, although unfortunately sometimes it takes me awhile to respond.