Chapter 44: More confusing Discoveries

Ogata grinned in anticipation. He couldn't wait to play Fujiwara again, and now that he'd made Fujiwara's acquaintance, he'd certainly have plenty of opportunities to play Fujiwara in the future. Fujiwara probably lived somewhere in Tokyo, so it would be convenient for them to meet for games. Ogata just hoped Fujiwara didn't have an extremely demanding boss or a possessive partner. Non go-players were often rather intolerant of what they regarded as time "wasted" spent playing go; he'd broken up with more than a few girlfriends over that very issue. Then there was the one who'd thrown a handful of stones at him when he'd bluntly stated that he found go far more interesting than her. (Ogata still maintained that she shouldn't have asked the question if she hadn't wanted an honest answer.) Still, as go-obsessed as Fujiwara was, he'd probably manage to make some time regardless of his personal circumstances.

Fujiwara was sitting on the couch, eyes still half-lid with drowsiness when Ogata rapped politely on the living room door's frame. Ogata handed him some clothes to change, and Fujiwara thanked Ogata with a blush and a stammer, his shy manner and expression bearing little resemblance to the intense player who'd dominated the goban earlier.

"After you take a shower, let's eat breakfast. We'll have some time before the appointment, so I was planning to replay some of my next opponent's games. I have an important match coming up at the end of this month, so if you wouldn't mind, I'd like your input."

Fujiwara's face lit up as if he'd just won the Japan Jumbo Draw. "Of course! If you think I'd be useful in helping you prepare, Sensei," he added deferentially.

"Definitely. And don't call me 'sensei'," Ogata said, half-heartedly this time. Fujiwara was beginning to remind him of his mother in that aspect, if she thought something was the "proper" thing to do, she'd continue doing it regardless of what you asked. She would just politely pretend not to hear you if you protested. Ogata thought her selective hearing was definitely one of her more useful skills, and he admired it when it wasn't driving him up the wall. One day, Ogata hoped she would bequeath that skill to him, so he could add to his arsenal in the on-going war against Kuwabara.

Soon, old man. Soon.

###

Fujiwara was the very picture of indignation, arms crossed, two pink spots staining his cheeks, nose upturned.

Ogata couldn't stop chuckling. The way Fujiwara was standing wasn't helping matters any.

"I don't see what is so terribly funny about what I said," Fujiwara said in clipped tones, sounding severely tempted to say something impolite.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to make light of your condition, but... that's the first time I've ever heard anyone refer to a computer quite like that. Your description was just"-Ogata paused, searching for a diplomatic word that might mollify Fujiwara-"unique," he finished, aware that the apology was a little lacking.

Apparently Fujiwara thought so as well. He swatted his folded fan against his palm sharply, his violet eyes flashing dangerously. "'Unique' as inweird, yes? Then Sensei, please explain to me how you would describe this... 'computer' then."

Not as 'that box with players inside,' that's for certain, Ogata thought wryly. Fujiwara had gotten excited when he'd stepped inside the study and spotted the computer, and had proceeded to identify it in the most amusing of terms. His amnesia had definitely damaged his grasp of modern technology. During breakfast, Ogata had noticed that Fujiwara was watching him very carefully as he operated the microwave. Shortly afterwards, Fujiwara had cautiously approached the microwave to reheat his drink. There was something odd about the manner he had touched the microwave, with wariness yet not complete unfamiliarity, almost as if he had never actually operated one himself. Like he'd only seen microwaves on TV or something. Assuming that Fujiwara knew how to operate a television; Ogata wasn't quite ready to discount his latest outlandish theory, which was that the man had been raised in monastery with robe-clad, go-playing monks and no contact with the outside world.

Regardless, Fujiwara's pride was injured, and Ogata wanted his help. So he gave Fujiwara a concise explanation about the computer and the Internet along with a visual demonstration.

"Ah," Fujiwara said when Ogata finished, looking pacified. He pointed at the modem cable with his fan. "So if you take that cord out, then you can't talk to other players anymore."

"Precisely." Pleased, Ogata nodded. He hated explaining himself twice. Some go players' intelligence didn't extend beyond the goban (there was one notable Korean pro who hadn't bothered to learn to tie his shoes until his late teens), but obviously Fujiwara wasn't one of them. His fractured memory just meant he was lacking reference points for the time being. "Would you like to try?" Ogata stood up and gestured to the seat.

Fujiwara leaned forward, regarding the computer with a mixture of eagerness and caution, but then he remembered the sheaf of kifu Ogata had printed out. "No thank you, not right now. May we play go instead?"

"Of course." Ogata handed the kifu to Fujiwara. "These are my opponent's kifu. His name is Kurata Atsushi. He's a relatively young Pro, but talented, and we've played each other frequently so he's familiar with my style. I'd appreciate it if you would review these, then play a game with me the way you think he would play it. I want to determine if there are weaknesses in my game that he could exploit."

"Mmm, yes." Fujiwara nodded absentmindedly, intent on the kifu as he sank to the floor, settling into seiza.

"After we're back from the hospital then, okay?"

The task Ogata had requested of Fujiwara was by no means a simple one; most players simply weren't capable of imitating another player's style for an entire game, but Ogata had little doubt that Fujiwara was quite capable of such a feat. Not after that second game. Ogata was well aware of the quirks and habits that manifested in his personal playing style, but they weren't "weaknesses" that could be exploited; Sensei had pounded any of those out years ago. But by the time they'd reached mid-game, Ogata had been seized by a thrill of dread and admiration: Fujiwara was reacting to his moves with an uncanny accuracy, as if Fujiwara were reading his mind. Fujiwara had already assimilated some of Ogata's idiosyncrasies, and he was wielding that knowledge against Ogata with cunning. Not all of Ogata's plans, of course, but enough to give Fujiwara a lead which he easily maintained throughout yose.

###

Ogata was halfway through one edition of National Geographic when Fujiwara and Dr. Kiyohara, a trusted friend of his family ,whom he had known since his childhood and, emerged from the back rooms.

"What are his chances of a complete recovery?" Ogata asked as soon they were inside of the examining room, well out of earshot.

"His amnesia is bad. Truly, shockingly bad. I've dealt with a few head injury cases during my practice, mind, but nothing on this level. You ought to have taken him to a hospital for a scan last night after realizing he couldn't even answer the most basic questions about himself." She fiddled with her cigarette. "But to be fair, I don't think it would have made a difference."

"What do you mean?"

"His amnesia, as far as I can determine, is not related to whatever accident he had in the canal. If he had drowned enough to damage his brain that severely, he'd almost certainly be displaying some signs of motor impairment. His lungs would have some sign of damage. But he said he didn't have any problems breathing last night, no coughing, no wheezing."

Ogata nodded. "His voice was hoarse, but that was it."

Dr. Kiyohara blew out more smoke. "Then there's the question of how he ended up in the canal in the first place. Most drowning accident victims are children – the parents forget to lock the gate to the pool, or Junior decides that dunking his head in a bucket of water would be really fun. The next vulnerable group is young males, teens to early twenties. Usually, alcohol or drugs are involved. Or some sort of water sport, like diving off cliffs. But if he'd injured himself in a sport, he'd certainly have detectable injuries like broken bones or bruising. He said he wasn't drinking either, and he seemed puzzled when I asked him about drug usage."

"He wasn't high or drunk when I found him last night," Ogata said. "I wouldn't have let him get in my car if he had been."

Dr. Kiyohara waited before continuing, taking the time to cross her legs and adjust her chair. " I wonder from where he came. His posture, for starters. He carries himself like a prince; I didn't see him slouch once. He's also extremely polite; he was speaking to me in keigo the whole time. Most young people don't know keigo, but his is flawless. He's obviously been educated, as well-spoken as he is. Then there's that handwriting of his. I'm guessing a traditional family." Her lips quirked up. "Did you really think he was a woman at first?"

Ogata managed to maintain a cool gaze. "I told you his voice was hoarse. And some women have deep voices. Regardless, how does Fujiwara being from a 'traditional family' help matters any?"

The look Ogata received informed him that he was missing something painfully obvious. "His family probably filed a missing person report as soon as possible, maybe even hired a detective."

"He's an adult. What makes you think they would have notice? "

"That kind of parent notices," Dr. Kiyohara said decisively, "and I seriously doubt he lives by himself." Her expression became thoughtful. "You'd think that with that sort of amnesia, he'd be feeling just a teeny bit paranoid because he doesn't know anybody. How do you know who you can trust if you can't remember anything? But he's still open and friendly, didn't get defensive about any of my questions. That's the sort of trusting attitude that you only get when you've grown up sheltered and haven't been exposed to the 'real world.'" She shook her head. "Fujiwara-san seems bright enough, but he's not in the right state of mind to be making medical or legal decisions for himself. He needs a guardian. So take him to the police station. It shouldn't take them too long to search their records for missing young men with the last name Fujiwara. Mommy and Daddy can take him to his MRI appointment."

"I didn't think it would be necessary to involve the police. I had expected he would have started remembering things by now. Like where he lives."

"He's really not your problem, dear," the doctor replied. "Although the case itself is interesting. I'll definitely be interested in the results of that MRI scan."

The reluctance Ogata felt must have shown on his face because Dr. Kiyohara smirked and waved a teasing finger at him. "Ah-ha, so you are attracted to him. I'll admit I was curious as to why you were taking such an interest in a complete stranger – you even lent him your clothes. Seiji, that's not like you at all! "

Ogata pinched at the bridge at his nose. "Oh, no, we're not 'involved.' But he does play go. Exeptionally good go."

"You're the Juudan. Coming from you, that's quite a compliment." The doctor arched an eyebrow. "If I know you, Seiji, you're caught up with thinking about how you can use him to improve your go. Which isn't a bad thing in itself, but the situation is more complex than go. You're dealing with a person who is vulnerable right now. I just don't want you to get involved in something... messy."

"I know. Thank you for your advice. I'll contact the police if he hasn't remembered anything by tomorrow," Ogata said, stubbing his cigarette out in an ashtray before getting to his feet.

"It's the best decision."

Dr. Kiyohara followed him to the waiting room where Fujiwara was listening intently to the receptionist chatter about the pictures of her children. Ogata paid the bill while Dr. Kiyohara made Fujiwara promise to play a game of go with her sometime. "I've heard you're quite talented," she said, and Fujiwara blushed and protested modestly.