! 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 42: The Juudan's Muse
"It was another beautiful game," Fujiwara breathed, after Ogata had surrendered. "Ogata-san, I'm honored that you asked me to play games. Should I be calling you Ogata-sensei instead, since you're a professional? I'm sorry, I'm not sure of the procedure! Please don't be offended!"
Ogata managed to pry his eyes off the board to stare at Fujiwara in utter bewilderment as the man continued to gush about the game and wave his fan at certain stones. The man had just beaten him by two moku, yet Fujiwara was rambling on about whether or not he should be called "sensei." At the title-holder level, half a moku wins were not uncommon, so a two moku loss was basically considered a trouncing - not a fluke or luck. Didn't Fujiwara realize that? Ogata entertained the idea that Fujiwara was very slyly mocking him, until he noticed a suspicious dampness glittering in Fujiwara's eyes. His opponent was crying from sheer happiness.
Ogata wordlessly handed Fujiwara a tissue, then took a moment to compose himself and collect his thoughts. First, he'd found this man. Then he'd taken him home. He'd played him and was crushed by him. Now this man was crying. Which was apparently a good thing because he was crying from happiness, not because Ogata had played a really bad game. No, the game hadn't been bad at all, Ogata conceded, glancing at the board again. Confronted with the brilliance of his opponent, he'd been forced to try a new tactic he'd never used before. Playing this man for just one game, Ogata could feel a new fountain of energy resurrecting inside him. He had awakened him, breathed a new life into his Go There was no doubt in Ogata's mind: this man was his muse. Why God gave him this fortune, Ogata could not yet decipher.
"Is something wrong, Ogata-sensei?" Fujiwara had finally noticed his thougtfullness and was now staring at him, fine brows furrowed in concern.
"No, I'm fine. And please don't call me 'sensei'," Ogata said, removing his glasses so he could wipe the perspiration from his forehead. "Exellent game. Obviously you haven't forgotten how to play go. You routed me rather completely," Ogata said frankly with a dry smile, replacing his glasses. "If you don't mind my asking, what exactly are you remembering now?"
"Just games. Hundreds of them. I don't remember the context or time or even my opponents, just the moves and the arrangements of the stones." Fujiwara looked down at the ruined fan in his hands, turning it over and over. "I wonder what that says about me, that I can remember games down to the stone but can't even remember a single face."
"I'm sure it's just a result of however you hit your head or injured yourself. The brain reacts in strange way to injury. It's not a reflection on you personally."
"But you have to admit, it is a little odd that I don't even remember my family but I have no problem remembering that a small keima works best in this situation here." Fujiwara gestured towards the goban, his voice wavering slightly. There was absolutely no trace of that incongruous and ancient presence Ogata had sensed during the game; Fujiwara looked just like what he was: a young man, lost and confused.
Ogata experienced a sudden urge to give Fujiwara a consoling touch on the shoulder or hand, but he shook it off. He was hardly the sort of person who went around doling out pats like a doddering grandmother, and certainly not to a beautiful man he'd be trying to seduce, given normal circumstances. "I don't think it's that odd at all," Ogata said reassuringly, in lieu of touching. "Your level of skill suggests that you've spent a lot of time playing go. So maybe it's why go is the first thing you've remembered – it doesn't mean it will be the only thing you remember."
Fujiwara gave Ogata a tiny, uncertain smile that said he knew Ogata was just guessing to make him feel better, but that he appreciated the gesture all the same. "You said I'm skilled... do you think perhaps I'm a professional player as well?" Fujiwara ventured carefully.
"No, the professional world of go isn't a large one. I'd already be familiar with you if you were a professional," Ogata said with conviction.
Fujiwara looked crestfallen, and Ogata assured him he could check with the Go Associations in Kansai and Western Japan, just to make certain that they weren't missing any go players. Maybe, Ogata thought privately, Fujiwara had decided to become an insei after realizing how easily he was dominating his opponents, who knows.
Immediately, Fujiwara's face brightened. "Thank you very much, Ogata-sensei. I'm afraid I haven't got many ideas myself about what I should do next, since I don't remember enough yet. Earlier, you had mentioned that I should go to a doctor and get a 'scan' done. Would this 'scan' help me find my memories?"
Ogata knew he ought to be very worried that apparently Fujiwara hadn't retained even a basic grasp of modern technology. But there was something almost... cute about the way he was phrasing his question, completely earnest and serious. Ogata bit the inside of his lip because laughing just wouldn't be appropriate in this situation. "The scan can't 'find your memories' directly. But if you sustained an injury to your brain, then a scan can help the doctor detect the injury and possibly treat it. If you'd like, I'll take you to my family doctor first, and then she might recommend you to a specialist, probably a neurologist."
Fujiwara nodded sagely. "Ah, so the neurologist is a memory specialist. I think that would be a good idea."
"I have a free schedule tomorrow, so I'll bring you there." Tomorrow would be the last match of the Kisei challenger tournament – Shindous vs. Touya. Ogata had intended to watch the match, but given he's having Sai right here in his reach, the two kids combined still couldn't compete. "Why don't you try to get some sleep now?"
"Can't we play just one more game?" The look that Fujiwara gave Ogata then could only be described as impish and wheedling. And possibly illegal. It was wrong for a grown man to be able to pull off a look like that, Ogata groused to himself.
Fujiwara got his game.
