Chapter 40: Who is Fujiwara?

Fujiwara's eyes lingered on the goban.

"Are you familiar with this game?" Ogata asked, referring to Go in general. It was possible Fujiwara was just staring because the goban was really the only interesting object in the room.

"It seems familiar somehow..." Fujiwara gave a small, helpless shrug.

"Well, I'm sure things will start coming back to you soon. I'll be in my study if you need anything. I'll wake you up in three hours to check on you, just to make sure you're doing okay." That was standard procedure for treating head injury victims at home: wake them up at frequent intervals to make certain they haven't lapsed into unconsciousnesses.

"I apologize for the-" Fujiwara began, but Ogata cut him off with a wave.

"Don't worry. Get some rest."

As he left the room, Ogata glanced back. Fujiwara looked small and forlorn somehow, curled up on the couch under the blanket. He was still staring at the goban, as if it contained his missing memories.

Instead of researching Kurata's kifu, Ogata found himself surfing Internet medical sites. The information he'd dug up on amnesia wasn't very conclusive because the degree of severity and duration of amnesia varied wildly, and medical experts disagreed about the best form of treatment for it. Apparently, near-drowning could also be a cause of amnesia because the brain started suffering from oxygen deprivation after about three minutes of no air. However, motor skill impairment was far more likely than amnesia.

A glance at his computer's clock showed that about two hours had passed. Ogata decided to go ahead and check on Fujiwara. As he drew close to the living room, he realized the lamp by the couch was still on. Silently, Ogata moved into the doorway and paused.

Fujiwara's head was bent over the goban, his hair spilling onto its edges. A black stone hovered in the air, held expertly with exceptional elegance between his index and middle fingers.

Clack. After a long moment's deliberation, Fujiwara placed the stone somewhere in the upper left quadrant. That was the section, Ogata recalled, where the death of a group of key black stones had become certain. Kurata, who had been playing White, had set the cunning trap in play about fifteen moves earlier, and his opponent had resigned after realizing there was no foreseeable way for him to escape.

Yet Ogata's instincts had told him that there was a way for Black to survive, but the path remained frustratingly hidden to him, hovering just beyond the edge of his perception. It was wholly improbable, Ogata reminded himself, to imagine that Fujiwara had found that path when he himself couldn't, but Ogata couldn't help but slow his breath as he padded quietly across the room. Something about the expression on Fujiwara's face had snared his attention. Intensity. An intensity so strong it was almost palpable. Was Fujiwara one of those hard-core amateurs, or perhaps one of the more talented Net-Go players?

Clack. Clack. Clack. The stones clicked into place quickly now that the first had been laid. Black's path to survival glittered like an onyx serpent, twisting in a pattern Ogata had never fathomed. Ogata's heart thudded in his chest as the brilliance of the moves sunk in; with this play, Black could not only live but tip the balance of the entire game. But surely, Fujiwara simply happened to be familiar with a very similar scenario; perhaps some professional kifu had been uploaded to the Internet and Fujiwara had just recognized that he could apply the play to this specific game. There was just no feasible way that a non-pro could be capable of such a level of play.

Then Fujiwara looked up, his expression of surprise quickly mutating into guilt. "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to mess with your game! I'll put it back just like it was!"

Ogata grabbed Fujiwara's wrist before he could remove the offending stones and Fujiwara blinked at the contact, wide-eyed. Ogata stared at the board, releasing Fujiwara's hand only when he'd committed the pattern to memory.

Fujiwara began reiterating his apology, but Ogata ignored him, instead studying Fujiwara's face as if he could read its secrets like he would a board. Then Ogata swept the goban clean, and placed it on the floor, settling himself cross-legged style in front of the board. "Play a game with me." It wasn't a request.

Fujiwara stared at him, then a small smile flitted across his lips. He slid off the couch, fan in hand, and settled on the opposite side of the goban, folding his legs under himself neatly.

Ogata did not offer Fujiwara a handicap but instead wordlessly passed him the goke with the black stones. "Onegaishimasu."

"Onegaishimasu." Fujiwara returned the bow, then deftly snapped a black stone onto a star point.

Ogata answered with a white stone on another star point.

They continued in this manner for a few moves, claiming key points of territory swiftly. Solid play but nothing extraordinary, any player of intermediate skill knew what the key positions were. But now came the test of ability.

Fujiwara's almond-shaped eyes narrowed, and he snapped his fan open, hovering it in front of his mouth before placing the next stone in Ogata's territory with a decisive clack.

Ogata stroked his chin appraisingly. Not a bad move.

Several exchanges later, Ogata felt his pulse begin to accelerate: Fujiwara's stones were taking shape. The emerging patterns stirred Ogata's memory, a thrill shooting up his spine as he felt like he'd seen this style of play before. Tell me who you are, Ogata commanded silently, maneuvering his stones to swiftly sever intruding Black's life.

I don't know, said Fujiwara's honest eyes. But his escaping stones whispered, You know, you know it in your bones, in your blood, in every part of you that loves Go.

Sweat beaded on Ogata's forehead as he focused on yet another breach of his territory. The breach was elegant, executed with subtle plays so it would be overlooked in favor of more obvious threats. He'd caught it early, but he could see how it would have spread like poisonous creepers had it been left unchecked just a hand or two more. Ogata strengthened his presence in Fujiwara's sphere of influence, forming an attack that struck with the force of a brutal, unavoidable spearing. Who are you, an unknown who exchanges equal blows with the Juudan?

Fujiwara tapped the folded fan against pursed lips, considering the damage.

Ogata allowed himself a small smirk as Fujiwara's pause stretched into minutes. It was a particularly insightful attack on his part, the caliber of play that had granted him long-desired victory over Touya Meijin. Yet deep inside, he felt a small, traitorous twinge of disappointment. You can't beat him. Even though there's no escape, he'd find one. He'd make one.

Finally Black answered, and Ogata let a small breath of air escape, readying his next play. Fujiwara's was a decent move, one that would stem Black's losses, but not enough to recover from White's vicious attack. Fujiwara was quite gifted, no doubt, and he must have certainly studied thatplayer online, but he wasn't-

Ogata froze, his vision nearly blurring from shock as a second pattern emerged from the board like a phantom rising out of a fog, a pattern that encompassed nearly the entire board in its influence. That single black move had breathed life into Fujiwara's stones and death into his. Ogata grasped his knees tightly with trembling hands; he'd been confident that he'd been reading the game deeply. But Fujiwara had read it down to its skeleton. How... ?

Tell me who you are. And Ogata looked up, shock filled his eyes. Just who are you?

Fujiwara's face was gentle in victory, glowing with accomplishment, the beautiful smile indicating pride in game well-played on both sides. But his eyes were deep and unknowable as Go itself, years of experience peering out from a young man's body. Ogata was overwhelmed, overwhelmed by the game and overwhelmed by that person sitting at the other side of his Go band.

WHO ARE YOU?!

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Note: You may have noted by now, that for this part of plot, I use Ontogenesis's "Desynchronization". I love this story at lot - it actually comes the closest to my dream end! Much thank to Ontogenesis to have created this beautiful fanfiction!

But then, again, I've made changes that I needed for my plot. It won't be 100% the same as Desynchronization. In this story, it took a little bit longer than in "Desynchronization" for Ogata to recognise who Sai was. Enjoy!