! Important: If this story reminds you of a different fanfiction you've read before, don't be surprised! Please read my Disclaimer (Chapter 1)
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Chapter 36
Sitting back with a cigarette in mouth, Ogata exhaled, blowing bursts of smoke into the air. Those moves toward the end of the game, how could he have turned it around? The game was more than a week old now and yet it still haunted him. Hikaru's fingertips had been glowing, of that he was certain. It seemed impossible really, to go from a strong game at the level of what would certainly have been that of a high pro of 7 or 8 – Dan to that of Toya Meijin in an instant. No, perhaps he had gone beyond even Ogata's master, into the realm of Sai.
That was the other name that haunted him, and it had been for far longer than this newest haunting caused by Hikaru's stunning comeback. Somehow or other Sai and Hikaru were connected, that much was certain, but as to how he didn't know. Those moves were certainly at Sai's level, although having reviewed the game several times already he could tell that they were not Sai exactly. That mysterious Internet player who had both terrorized and thrilled the online go community with his (her?) brilliance and strength like a wired, modern Shusaku. S a i , who refused to hint at his life or even chat with opponents. He thought he'd win that match and finally get to play Sai. But he failed.
Since that lost, Ogata had not won a single match. He'd lost the next two matches of the Meijin Final to Hatanaka and then lost his first Honinbo League match to Hatanaka again. He could not remember himself the last time that he had lost five straight matches. How far would Ogata fall?
With a small sigh, Ogata stood up. Maybe a vacation was in order. It had been awhile since he'd permitted himself the luxury, he'd been so intent on claiming titles. Or maybe trying something new would stimulate him. He'd heard that old Ichiryuu had gone skydiving in Australia after an extended slump and that embarrassing loss against that bleached banged brat, and returned energized enough to pull off a win against Shirakawa 8-dan. Ogata couldn't suppress a small chuckle at the thought of throwing himself out of a plane, thousands of meters in the air, in hopes of invigorating his go.
Ogata took the elevator to the first floor, squinting through the dimmed lighting. He was the only one still at the Association apparently, but he wasn't surprised. It was nearly seven-thirty on a Saturday night after all. His favorite fish store was probably already closed, but the one by the Ichigaya canal stayed open until eight. He paused, debating whether or not to get his Mazda from the parking garage. Usually he preferred to drive everywhere, but the fish store's parking lot was basically a long, steep slope. The thought of some old woman dinging his precious car gave Ogata the shudders. Okay, he'd walk then.
Ogata strolled down the narrow sidewalk that ran alongside the canal. Occasionally, a fish would leap out of the water to snap at a bug, weak moonlight glinting off silvery scales. Ogata stopped to pull his cigarettes out of his pockets. He leaned his arms on the sidewalk's railing as he puffed away contentedly, admiring the way the water looked under the moonlight with the railroad tracks in the background. At night, one would never guess the water actually had an ugly, murky green hue by day.
That didn't mean idiots ought to throw their trash in the canal, Ogata thought, narrowing his eyes. Something big and white had gotten tangled in the roots of the willow tree that clung to the bank, almost directly below his position. He wondered if it were a bed sheet. The way it rippled gently in the water reminded him of the trailing, delicate fins of a white strain of betta. "The Ghost Betta," they called it.
Ogata took a few more puffs, noticing that there were long, black strands attached to the sheet. Bed sheets don't have hair, Ogata noted idly, about a second before his brain put two and two together. Oh shit. In retrospect, he was proud that he only hesitated for a moment before scrambling over the railway (his pants were white, after all.) Ogata crouched low as he picked his way down the canal bank; the slope was steep and his dress shoes had horrible traction.
The stranger was almost completely submerged, except for her head. Ogata was relieved; he wouldn't have touched a corpse. Her eyes were shut, though. If she were unconscious, that would explain why she was still in the water. But then Ogata noticed her hands – her fingernails were literally digging into the tree's roots, her grip was so tense. Surely she had to be at least somewhat aware.
"Hey, wake up." Ogata gently shook a shoulder. "You can't stay here all night," he said reasonably.
The woman's eyes fluttered open. She looked dazed, although Ogata couldn't smell any alcohol on her.
"I'm guessing you weren't out for an evening swim?" Ogata wrapped his right arm around the willow's trunk before extending his left hand. "Here, let go and take my hand."
The woman regarded him warily for a long moment and bit her lip before reaching her hands out. Ogata hauled her forward heavily, leaning back to compensate for the weight of her water-logged clothing. She stumbled on the willow's roots, so Ogata was obliged to catch her under the arm. He suppressed a sigh. Damned good deed was going to get him soaking wet. He placed her other arm across his shoulders. "I'll help you walk to the road," he said, pointing his chin to the left. They'd have to walk alongside the bank; there was no way this woman could manage climbing up the slope and over the fence in her present state. The slope was at least three meters high, and Ogata could feel the woman trembling as if her legs would give out at any moment. He guided her carefully over a small rain culvert. Her sodden clothing certainly wasn't helping matters either – it was long and caught in the overgrown grasses, and it was heavy as hell. Actually, perhaps costume would be a more accurate term than clothing, the style reminded him of something out of a Noh play. He could barely feel her arms under all the layers – who wore three layers of clothes in May? And it was genuine silk, too, judging from the feel of it. And her hair was ridiculously long, at least down to her hips. Nowadays, most women didn't even grow their hair past their shoulders.
Finally they made it to the end of that stretch of canal. Ogata helped the woman sit down in the grass near the road. "Do you want to call someone to pick you up?" he asked, patting his pockets for his cell phone, only to discover he'd forgotten it in the archives room. Damn. "Look, I seem to have forgotten my cell phone. I'm going to get my car, and then I can just drive you home, okay?" Ogata offered, reasoning that the woman must live nearby.
"I was just sleeping... and then I was... drowning." She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. Ogata really hoped not. He could handle just about anything, including a woman having a full-blown temper-tantrum complete with flying go stones (well, that time had actually been rather entertaining, although perhaps he shouldn't have laughed to begin with.) Anything but a crying woman.
"It's okay now." Ogata patted her on the shoulder. "Just wait here while I get my car. It's close. And please don't fall into the canal again."
She offered him the barest hint of a smile as if to suggest she would do her very best.
Ogata hurried back to the Association as quickly as he could stride. He would have jogged, but his dress shoes weren't designed for it. Ogata wondered if the woman really were a sleep-walker, and decided he liked that explanation better than drugs because she wouldn't be going stark raving mad on him anytime soon. He rushed up to the archives room to retrieve his cell phone, then to the parking garage.
When Ogata returned, the woman was still sitting where he had left her. Ogata put his emergency flashers on and opened the passenger door before helping her – and her copious robes – into the car. "Where to?"
She blinked in confusion and Ogata arched his eyebrows up, wondering if perhaps this sodden affair wasn't going to be resolved as quickly as he'd like. She was apparently still suffering from the affects of near-drowning or hitting her head. He turned his emergencies off and drove to the nearest parking lot, flicking on the dome light as he engaged the emergency brake. "It's alright. Just take your time. You're probably still exp-"
Ogata's voice broke off as he got his first good look at the woman. It had been too dark outside with only a quarter moon, but under the dome light he could see that she was gorgeous. Her thick black hair complemented a pale, flawless complexion, and she also had fine cheekbones and a mouth that looked both proud and dainty. But her eyes were absolutely compelling, an unusual shade – violet?- with some of the longest lashes Ogata had ever seen.
Ogata pretended to cough, glad the woman was still too out of it to have noticed his staring. "As I was saying, you're probably still experiencing the effects of a concussion. I should take you to a hospital so they can run some tests."
"No!" The woman sat up straight in her seat, jerking against the seat belt in her haste. "I don't want to go there!"
Surprised at the sudden outburst, Ogata instinctively drew back. The woman flushed and hid her mouth behind a flowing sleeve. "Please forgive me," she said. "I did not mean to be rude. I just don't know this 'hospital' place."
She had good breeding, at least; her speech was very polite and respectful. Although her voice was hoarse, it wasn't slurred at all, which was a good sign. But Ogata was disturbed by the way she referred to a hospital. It wasn't uncommon for people to be afraid of hospitals, but she was acting as if she didn't know what it was. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "What about ... the police?" Ogata ventured. "There's a koban very close, right across from the station."
The woman's fingers curled into her palms. "I'm sorry, I don't know that either." Ogata felt his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. He'd heard of people temporarily forgetting things like the date and their pet's name, but the hospital? The police?
Ogata stared at the woman. She was quite young, definitely younger than he was. He wondered if she were a college student, and then remembered there were other questions one ought ask a head injury victim. "I'm Ogata Seiji. It's nice to make your acquaintance, although perhaps not under these circumstances."
The woman bowed as far as the seat belt allowed. "Thank you for your assistance, Ogata-san...
… My name ….
My name is Fujiwara..."
