Warnings: Spoilers for the entire series and mature language
Notes: It's always the kind words of a reviewer that gets me writing again. This time, the review came quite a while before I posted this, but it stands; I wouldn't have gotten back to as quickly without said reviewer (not that this is quick...). I've been studying abroad this semester, and unlike other programs, my classes were hard as heck. Toward the end, I had all-nighters, a paper due every week, you name it. Okay, I'm done making excuses. Lastly, in case I haven't said it before, I simply don't write shonen ai or yaoi, so don't expect any here. Thanks for reading. :)
Full Summary: Hikaru has no time or interest in Go, especially since he has to contend with failing grades and a violent father. Sai is a Go professional in the modern age, his only goal searching for the Hand of God. What simple coincidences bring these two together as teacher and student, mentor and mentee, project and creator?

The Untitled Project

by The Honorable Arik Novak


Where did he stand? Hikaru felt himself floating in limbo, a half-way place between maybe feeling affection and definitely feeling unwanted. Sai was rarely at the apartment when he wasn't at the Go Institute, and Hikaru had to wonder what the man was doing when he wasn't at either. He acted like Hikaru was important, that he mattered, but the man's absence made Hikaru wonder. On the other hand, there was the surly Ogata who held a kind of royal haughtiness, looking down at Hikaru whenever he got the chance.

It was unnerving. It made him feel uncomfortable, with those golden eyes boring into him. And Ogata was no light-weight. The man was thin, yes, but he was lean, not an unhealthy thin. Hikaru was surprised since he always thought Go-players were crotchety old men. He should have known better not to stereotype them since he knew Sai was no old man. But Sai was the exception. Sai was always the exception.

The only one who looked, who really looked at Hikaru and saw him, not an oblivious cocky kid (though Hikaru could admit that sometimes he was just an oblivious cocky kid). But Sai wasn't here, and Hikaru was instead stuck with the heartless robot.

Why couldn't he stay at Sai's? Or go back home?

Yeah...why couldn't he just leave? It wasn't like Ogata valued his company anyway. He bet Ogata would be happier if he didn't have 'a brat' to look after. Hikaru had to admit to himself that he wasn't making it easy either; any gesture on Ogata's part set him on edge, and that in turn seemed to annoy the older man. Neither of them was at fault, and no reconciliation could be reached. So why couldn't he leave Ogata's place and go somewhere more comfortable?

"Ogata?" He called out.

The man's head whipped toward him with his eagle eyes focused sharply on Hikaru.

"Uh, Ogata-san?" he called again.

Seemingly reluctantly, the man asked, "What do you want?" without a hint of impatience. He seemed bored, if anything. As if he were a receptionist at an office with nothing better to do than file his nails.

"You don't want me here," Hikaru started. He would start slow, gradually convincing the man that there was need for a change.

"Not particularly, no." Well, the man didn't split hairs.

Hikaru didn't let the words hurt him. After all, he didn't like Ogata, and he knew Ogata didn't like him. Hikaru took a breath and continued, "And I'd rather not be here." Ogata's shrewd eyes narrowed and nodded for Hikaru to continue.

"I just think we'd both be better off if I stayed elsewhere."

"How perceptive of you," the blond said with a bit of a drawl. It wasn't pronounced in the man's tone, but Hikaru could taste the bitter sarcasm. "Pray tell, where is elsewhere?"

"Sai's place?" He said, as if it were the natural conclusion. And it was!

"No."

Ogata turned his heel and stalked back to his bedroom, leaving Hikaru with his confusion. What a jerk.


The kid was really getting on his nerves. All day long, asking if he could stay at Sai's place or, God forbid, go back home. The brat had no sense of gratitude. He wished he could tell the boy exactly why he could not go back to that abusive place (was an explanation even needed? Wasn't it self-explanatory?) and exactly why Fujiwara could not house him. But Fujiwara had given him strict instructions not to tell the boy of his past.

How stupid was that? How could Fujiwara expect the boy to trust him or appreciate him when he kept such big secrets? At the same time, the brat should just listen to the adults since they knew better than him. Kids these days.

He needed coffee. Or a stiff drink. He wondered if he wanted to brave his living room-and paused. Brave his living room? He owned the place! Defiantly, he strode from his bedroom and walked toward the kitchen area, ignoring the presence of the moody teenager.

"I know you don't want me here, so let me go back. I just want to go home," that irritating voice piped up again. Ogata regretted coming out from isolation. All he wanted was a cup of coffee, and he was bombarded with whiny complaints.

Again? Would the brat never stop complaining? "Sai wants you safe, and that place could hardly be considered safe." He started arranging his coffee machine, adding water and a little container of stuff. It was a newfangled design, but it was easier to use than filters and grounds.

"Sai's never here anyway. And 'not safe'? I'll just talk to my dad, and everything will be all right—"

Ogata's eyes flashed. Whoever claimed this kid was brilliant? All Ogata could see was stupidity. "Were you born an idiot or did your father just addle your brains one too many times?" he asked acerbically.

At the boy's wince, Ogata stopped himself from saying anything further. He leaned on the counter with both hands, his head down. Ogata didn't want to have the unfortunate obligation of telling the brat that a loving father wouldn't beat his son—his mom was AWOL, and he didn't seem to have many friends. Who was Ogata to tell him that the brat's own father didn't give a damn about him?

But it was necessary that the kid know, Ogata said to himself. Hikaru had to understand that adults didn't hurt the children whom they loved. He had to understand that kicking a child out of the house was not an act of love. Such an injury to the kid's arm was not an accident too. It was ridiculous that the older Shindou get away with such things and even more ridiculous that Hikaru would let him, even go back to him!

Hikaru had such a skewed view of his father. Didn't he understand that loving parents simply didn't do that? They wouldn't hurt their children, and they wouldn't abandon them either. The kid's mom—Ogata had a problem with her too. Hikaru seemed to think her the paragon of motherly virtue, but from what he had heard from the stories Hikaru himself told was that she was negligent, weak, and selfish.

Ogata wondered how the kid was still functioning if he had only his father and mother as his role models. What had happened with his grandfather anyway? He had heard a bit about the amateur, but nothing else of the old man. How did Heihachi's son turn into an abusive drunkard?

"What was Shindo Heihachi like?"

He could tell from the boy's stiffening that the question was a sensitive one. The brat crossed his arms and asked guardedly, "Why would you care? He's just a nobody."

Why did that sound familiar? He pushed the question to the back of his mind and pursued his prior thought. "Now, he can't really be a nobody if he was the one who taught you."

"He didn't teach me. Sai did."

"Ah, but you said, on the night of the Children's Tournament, that Shindo Heihachi was your teacher."

Hikaru gave him a sidelong glance, a tired glance. "I thought you already knew I was just saying that to protect Sai."

Ah, that was interesting. Ogata wondered how much the boy knew. "Why do you think he needs protecting?"

Shindo shrugged. "Hell if I know. But he doesn't want it known that I'm his student. Whether it's protecting his pride or his streak of prodigies, I'll do it." Oh, how little the boy knew. Protecting his pride? Sai could care less about such things.

He looked through his cabinet and withdrew the first mug he touched. "You really think that Fujiwara has you keep your silence because he's embarrassed by you?" The boy half-shrugged, half-nodded. Far from it! How often he had to hear the man go on, and on and on about the brat's amazing foresight. How little he knew, Ogata marveled again.

"Gramps loved Go almost as much as Sai does," he said quietly. He lapsed into silence for a few moments and looked up at Ogata with a lost look in the way his eyebrows tilted upward and his mouth settled into a frown. "You think you can find out when his funeral is?"

Ogata hesitated. "Even if we knew the location and date, you truly think you would be allowed to go? Your father will be there."

"I'll talk to him—"

Again! Again the brat was being idiotic. "Talking won't help. You're not going." He stuck the mug under the nozzle of the coffee maker and pushed a button. The small sound of whirring calmed his rising frustration.

"You can't stop me from going to my grandpa's funeral!"

Ogata smirked. "Yes I can." With that, he took his mug with him and walked back to his room.


It made Ogata supremely uncomfortable when he was awoken in the middle of the night by strange muttering and the rustle of blankets. Blearily, he walked out of his room to the living area and glared at the source of the noise. Shindo was dreaming.

He wondered what the boy could be dreaming about. His legs were jerking spasmodically, and his head would occasionally loll side to side as he muttered something else. Ogata lowered himself to the head of the couch, intent on listening in on the boys' dreams.

"Mmmfrm…" and other murmured nonsense was all he could hear. He stayed for a while longer, trying to decipher the strange words, but eventually grew annoyed. Why was he there, listening to the mad mumblings anyway? He had a game in the morning, he couldn't waste precious mind-recovering hours watching the boy sleep. As he stood up to go back to his room, he heard a strangled sob from the boy and a choked but understandable, "Please-"

What was he asking for, Ogata wondered. There was so much the boy could be seeking, whether it be his mother to come back or his father to stop, or Sai to stay...there was so much the boy didn't have.

"Plea-" his word was cut off by another, louder sob, and Ogata was thankful that no tears were running down the boy's cheeks. Awkwardly, for he had very little in the way of comforting another human being, he pat the boy's head. "There...there," he said. Surprisingly, the boy didn't flinch away. In fact, his legs stopped their movement and his muttering once again became unintelligible. Seeing the positive effect, he continued to pat his head, eventually the motion becoming a gentle stroking one. "That's right Shindo, sleep quietly now." He slowly withdrew his hand, but the whimper that slipped from the boy at the lost contact forced him to put it back. "Fine," Ogata griped, "Be that way, brat. But it'll be your fault if I lose my match—" He glanced at the advanced hands of the clock and sighed, "Today."


Ogata wouldn't hesitate to say that he was a selfish man. He cared little for other people's wellbeing and less for their opinions. He tolerated very little and made his displeasure known without hesitation—unless Go was involved. When it came to an intelligent conversation about Go, he could tolerate anything. Even the rap-tap-tapping of that brat's fingernail on his glass coffee table—

"Quit that." So he couldn't tolerate everything. He could imagine the sight of his table cracking from all the tapping the boy was doing. Though if he were honest, the way he often dropped things instead of placing them would put more strain than the boy's insistent tapping.

"Uh sorry," the boy said, quickly removing his hand from the table and glancing at the older man from the corner of his eye. Ogata rolled his eyes. He didn't mean to scare the kid again, like that very morning when Ogata had confronted the boy about his dream or nightmare or whatever it had been. He still remembered the boy's flushing cheeks and embarrassment and his awkward apology. While Ogata took a calming breath, the brat continued, "So um, why wouldn't you go here?"

He was pointing to a crosshair on the board. Ogata considered the move. It seemed like a short-sighted move, but he could see that the boy put a lot of thought into it. So he gave the teen the courtesy of pretending to consider it for a long minute before dashing his suggestion.

"Because in a few moves, it would be your downfall." He illustrated by placing the requisite stones according to how the boy probably expected them to go. He had considered the same move in his game that day. Since the boy was nodding, Ogata continued and played his prediction. "See, black would go here, white would be forced there, and black—" It had played out in such a way in his head at the time, and seemed to be a bad move.

"Oh, I see," the boy said, tucking his legs under him with his feet on the couch cushion. Ogata had to physically remind himself not to let his anger show by pinching his inner arm. Not only had the kid interrupted his explanation, but the brat's dirty feet were on his couch…

Ogata swallowed his bile back and nodded. "And that's why it would've been a foolish move."

The boy sat in silence for a while surveying the board. "But what if instead of going there," the boy removed the latest stones, about four of them, "white went here?" He placed the stone and sat back. Ogata looked at the move. It was simply stupid. What was the boy thinking? He would lose so much territory in that move, and black would respond too easily, and—Ogata stopped himself from voicing his criticism of the stupid move, because after some consideration, he decided that the move wasn't that stupid after all.

"Yes? And if white went there?" he prompted the boy to continue.

With vigor, the boy picked up a black stone. "Ya see, black will see it as an opportunity, and do the predictable thing. He'll think he's won. But after a little back and forth," the boy set more stones, far more stones than he considered strictly allowable for a reasonable prediction, and stopped. "See? Then white gets its territory back and then some."

Ogata was thankful his good sense had stepped in so that he didn't embarrass himself by calling a good move ridiculous. However, the moves the kid used to get to that point weren't necessarily the ones two players would make. To predict in a game he would have to consider all the options, and he wondered if the kid did so. He was looking too far into the game, assuming that the other player would play as he predicted.

"What if black went here instead?" Ogata removed a few stones and repositioned a black one.

"Hm…" The kid took a white stone between the middle and fore fingers of his bandaged right hand and placed it.

Ogata responded. The kid attacked. Ogata defended. The kid continued his attack. Ogata went on the offense. The kid retreated.

"Well I guess this could be another outcome," the boy said with disappointment. Black was still in the lead, but not as far as it would have been if the kid hadn't proposed the move in the first place.

"You did well, though."

The boy's eyes snapped to him in attention, and Ogata was likewise confused with himself. It wasn't that he withheld praise, he just didn't make it a habit of giving praise. With the boy still looking at him with suspicion, Ogata cleared his throat and stood up.

Without anything to do or something else to say, he simply told him, "I'm going to get take-out." Ogata didn't like thinking the word, 'awkward,' but sometimes it did apply.

"Dinner already? What time is it?" Shindo asked, perfectly comfortable, looking around for a clock.

"Past ten. We ought to have eaten earlier. I hope you like Chinese."

Ogata had to admit that the boy fascinated him. Now, Ogata would never say that he cared about the boy, and he didn't want the brat thinking he cared. But he was fascinating. He could understand how Fujiwara had been pulled in, how he had been attracted to such young enthusiasm and raw talent. The boy's mind worked wonders, and Ogata found himself speculating whether the boy was naturally talented or just an avid learner. He was no Sai, Ogata had to remind himself, but he was pretty damn close. He was surprised to come back to the apartment one night to the sight of the boy curled up with a biography of Honinbo Shusaku. When he tried to pry the book away, the boy mumbled something along the lines of, "Torajiro...Sai cares. Right? Right?" His words were muffled and slow, so Ogata couldn't be sure that he heard correctly. For all he knew, the boy had said 'Torajiro suckers, rye, rye."

He didn't dwell long on his words, instead taking the book back to his bookshelf. "Torajiro, indeed," he muttered to himself, "even to Honinbo Shusaku he's disrespectful." He spared a last glance at Shindo, wondering what the kid would have in store for him the next day. Always something going on with him.


"At least take me to the Go association? I've only been able to play NetGo and I need some fresh air!" Hikaru knew he might have been exaggerating, but at the moment, the only thing he wanted was to get out of the hated apartment. It was too sterile, too modern. Too lonely.

He could see Ogata's mind going through all of the possibilities. The man was probably weighing each option to find which was the lesser evil: leaving Hikaru alone in the apartment again or taking him to the Go Association.

Hikaru was amazed that Ogata was even considering it. From what he had seen, he seemed to annoy the bejeezus out of the man, what with his sleep-talking and his tapping and constant pleas for housing elsewhere. He noted a weird look on the older man's face, something like indecision. It was a little worrisome to see Ogata without a firm decision since Hikaru had become so used to the man's assertiveness and ironclad resolve.

"...Fine. But you do exactly as I say when I say it." It was a command, and Ogata would brook no complaint. Hikaru didn't care. He finally got to go out!

Once there, though, he wasn't sure if it had been a good idea. Ogata had to leave, quite reluctantly, to attend to some students and a game on one of the higher floors leaving Hikaru to hover by the front desk with the strict words, "Don't move from this spot."

He considered leaving entirely and going back home as he had asked Ogata to let him, but the man was probably right about it not being safe for now. Better let his dad cool down. Hikaru remembered how it was the day after his father had kicked him out. The man had felt guilty, and Hikaru had seen a glimpse of his dad when the man had been dad-like.

"You!"

Hikaru snapped out of his mental plans to see a somewhat familiar face. "You?" Hikaru asked in reply to the young stranger who occupied a small space in his memory. The other boy seemed to have been in mid-conversation with another taller boy with black hair.

The taller boy started, "Am I interrupting something, Toya-kun?" He noticed Hikaru looking at the one called Toya, and Toya in turn ignoring him in favor of staring at Hikaru. Perhaps in an effort to end the silence that had then arisen, the tall one said, "Forgive my rudeness, I'm Shinichiro Isumi." He was a kind-looking person, late teens or early twenties.

"Uh, Shindo Hikaru."

"What are you doing here?" Toya asked curiously. "Are you taking the pro test soon?"

Isumi looked at both of them askance. "Is he an insei? I don't think I've seen you before, Shindo-san."

"Whoa. I just—" could he say he was there with Ogata? "That is, I uh had a message for one Fujiwara Sai?" How lame, Hikaru berated himself. Well, maybe he could actually see the man now.

"Oh, Fujiwara?" another boy asked, walking up to them all. This one bore a cocky mien and somewhat wild brown hair. "He hasn't shown up in a while, right Isumi?"

The one named Isumi nodded. "He rescheduled all his matches for the past three days and the entirety of next week, though no one knows why."

"Ogata would know. By the way, I'm Waya Yoshitaka" the newcomer piped up. Toya looked incredibly uncomfortable next to him, but Hikaru couldn't imagine why. "Though," Waya continued, "the rumors about Fujiwara-san have sprung up again. They say someone saw him with a kid a few weeks ago. Kind of iffy."

"Waya, you shouldn't be spreading rumors—"

"Wait, what's wrong with him being seen with a kid?" Hikaru interrupted.

"Naw, Isumi's right. Fujiwara's a nice guy. Wouldn't want him in trouble."

Hikaru's curiosity was growing. "Why would that get him in trouble?"

As Waya was about to elucidate, Toya put a hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps not at this time. I believe Shindo-san has a message for Fujiwara-san." Turning to Hikaru, he said, "My father knows Fujiwara-san well. If you want, I can show you to his office." The intense look in the boy's eye told Hikaru that there was something more going on.

"Yeah, sure…" Hikaru continued his loose lie.

"Come with me, then. My father should be free. Waya-san, Isumi-san, have a good day."

Up the elevator and into an empty room the other boy led him. Hikaru knew the Go Institute pretty well, but not so well that he could keep up with the twisting and turning that led him to the room. There was a goban in the center and a glass wall behind which was another room that he supposed was used for watching the game that would be played in that very room.

"So, Toya, what's going on?" Hikaru asked, leaving off any honorifics. He wanted to know what was going on, dammit!

"You're Fujiwara Sai's student?" he asked in return. He looked toward the goban as if he wanted to play a game, but Hikaru wouldn't bend. He wanted answers.

"I might be." Hikaru figured the boy already knew of the connection, and he owed him anyway for helping him reach Ogata a few days ago. Hikaru owed him a lot.

"But you don't know the rumors." Hikaru shook his head. "Which means they must be unfounded," Toya continued with a relieved breath.

"What rumors? I only met the guy a few months ago! And he's been secretive and cautious, and this is only the second time I've come through the front door of this place since Sai always has us come in through the back-"

The boy looked at him sternly. "You are playing a dangerous game, Shindo-san. Fujiwara Sai, either he is risking his reputation for you, or you are in danger. "

"Enough with all of this! Just talk straight, would you? What rumors, and what does it have to do with me?"

Toya fiddled with his hands. "Well, Fujiwara-san simply appeared out of nowhere a few years ago. However, the rumors claim that he had served jail time, and it's a well-concealed fact that he's not allowed to teacher younger students, especially if they're male."


Fujiwara Sai was very familiar with research. After all, he had found Hikaru's grandfather with only a day or two of searching through obscure medical journals and old periodicals. He had the talent, his old professors had said, of knowing what information would and would not be useful. His intuition greatly helped him in finishing his doctorate in record time and manifested itself in Go as foresight.

Now, he was using it to track down Hikaru's mother. Akari had a phone number, but it had been a pay phone number. Tracing it with a directory took but minutes, but finally snooping around the area made Sai uncomfortable; the street smelled bad, and people were looking at him strangely.

"Hey, mister, looking for a good time?" asked a very young woman dressed in very indecent garb.

"No, no thank you. Excuse me," he said, ducking his head as he navigated through the seedy crowd. What was Hikaru's mother doing in a place like this? As Sai's eyes swept over the derelict street, he thought to himself that nothing had really changed. There, there was the street corner so familiar and so hated. That was where he met him. And over here, he thought, was where they had their last meal together.

He shook himself from his morbid memories and walked into the decrepit restaurant.

"Konoe-san, what're you doin back in these parts?" An old balding man walked up to him and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"I am Fujiwara now, as you well know. I am looking for a woman who goes by the name of Shindo. It seems she came by someone's back room recently."

The man looked at him intensely as if gauging Fujiwara's intent. "Good luck finding her. She's probably in China by now."

"Did you give her a new name?"

"Nope, just wanted a passport and an ID card."

Fujiwara nodded, knowing that this leg of the journey was now over. China, was it? He left the restaurant and the dark streets behind him. For now, all he could do was go home and tell Hikaru that his mother was safe. Even though Sai could not verify the truth of such a statement, it would be better than worrying the boy needlessly. After all, he had been away from the apartment for some time. Despite the somewhat dead end of his investigation, he was not hopeless; there were two good friends waiting for him to come back, and he was sure they had missed him.


IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE!

I'm going to take a break from writing this for a while. Basically, I need to retool everything. I think Hikaru's improving way too fast to be credible. Also, the story's going so fast, I fear it's reaching its end without actually hitting important points. Please let me know if you have suggestions or thoughts, because I don't know what to do anymore with this story. I have so many ideas, and I spent at least 5 hours yesterday trying to make a comprehensible timeline. I think I want to add more quiet moments, chances for Hikaru to develop more as a character. Also more angst (hehe...) but without more misunderstandings. I'm hoping my readers can PM or review to give me ideas-do I just upload different versions of the chapters (though they'd be completely different) or make a whole new story that actually has a title or continue with this? I mean, does it bother you guys how quickly he's advancing? That's my main problem. Is it just me? Please, please, give me your thoughts on this issue. Thank you for your time.