Waya no Go
The goban from Morishita-sensei's youth was undoubtedly haunted. Waya knew this because when it was gifted to him, Morishita said: "Waya, this goban is undoubtedly haunted."
"Haunted? Then why would you give this to me sensei?"
"Because," Morishita said, "haunted things are probably cursed."
"Why would you give me a haunted, cursed object for passing the pro exams, sensei?"
Morishita snapped his fingers. "But that's exactly why, Waya. You see, you've been terrible at go for a long, long time. Failing the pro exam as many times as you did... unheard of. Especially under my tutelage. I mean, can you imagine if you didn't make it again this year? Isumi would have passed. Isumi. He would be weeping into a fresh denim jacket before you could say yose."
"I really didn't-"
"Anyway, the point is this Waya-kun." Morishita slammed an open palm onto the goban. "It means your luck has changed. You have the hot hand, as they say in gambling. And trust me, the amount of money I bet on thinking Honda would make it... let's say my own are ice cold. So use that new luck on this goban and free it of its curse."
Waya stared.
"It's a lot to digest. I know, my pupil." Morishita rose. "And I also know that you're not good at making snappy judgments. That's why I recruited the demon king of speed to take the decision out of your hands." Morishita clapped his hands. "Fuku! What should Waya-kun do here?"
"Be quick," Fuku said from the other study room. "Be quick, Waya. That's how you always lose to me!"
"I'll do it!" Waya shouted. Morishita grinned and sat down again, across the goban. Kids were so easy to manipulate.
"So you may be wondering about the nature of the goban's curse. I'll tell you. This stain here," Morishita pointed to a conspicuous splash of dried burgundy on the wood of the goban, "does not come off the board."
A shiver lanced through Waya's limbs. "Could this be... blood?"
"No, it's probably a splash of dried burgundy. My younger years were really something."
"I'm talking about this spot here, sensei." Waya pointed to the middle of the board. He smoothed his hands over the blemish. "Not that other one."
Morishita crossed his arms. "There's nothing else there."
"It's right there."
"Nothing is there."
"I really think there's something there, sensei."
"I'm telling you there isn't. Can you hear my voice?"
"Sensei, something is-" Waya's head drooped, his neck slackening. He keeled over the goban.
Morishita stared at the possibly deceased Waya. "Waya?" He placed a hand on the teen's shoulder and shook. "Waya? Are you alright? Waya?"
No response.
Morishita slowly got to his feet. He slowly backed away. He slowly exited the study room. He slowly re-entered because he forgot to turn off the lights and wasting electricity is really just about as bad as cursing your star go pupil to an eternal slumber and there wasn't a need to add more sins to the ledger.
Waya lay in darkness.
"Be quick," Fuku said from Waya's subconscious. "Be quick, Waya. That's how you always lose to me!"
"Shut up!" Waya snapped awake.
"MoOOooo!" the ghostly cow hovering behind Waya mooed in alarm.
"Now you're calling me a cow, Fuku? Well you're a mole! A stinking mole! Not just because you shared my losses with Shindo, but how do you see out of those eyes at all?" Waya gritted his teeth. "Is that your secret? You play fast because you can't even see the whole board?!"
"Moooo," the cow mooed and shook its head. That was going too far.
"You're right, that was too far. I'm sorry Fuku. I'm just... I'm just upset that there's a clear weakness in my go game that has never been adequately addressed. I'm insecure because it's such an obvious problem to others and I don't know how to approach it without being embarrassed. The best go players don't insults each other. They try to get better. I didn't mean that."
"Moooo."
"I apologized, alright? Can you drop it?" Waya stood and fumbled for the light switch. When he flipped it on, he turned to see the ghostly cow staring back at him.
Waya rubbed his eyes. The cow stared some more.
"'Haunted things are probably cursed,'" Waya repeated. "You're what's haunting sensei's goban?"
The cow nodded.
"A cow?"
The cow nooded.
"And what's the curse?"
The cow shook its head ambiguously. No, it was signaling something. The cow trotted to one side of the goban. And then it sat. It looked at the goban, then expectantly at Waya.
"You want to play?" Waya placed his face in his hands. "What am I even saying? Why would a cow want to play-"
"MOOO!"
"Yikes!" Waya quickly sat across from the cow. "Okay, okay. Let's nigiri."
The cow nudged its ghostly nose at the black stones.
"You want to be black?" The cow shook its head. "You want... you want me to be black?" The cow nodded. "Are you saying I'm the weaker player?"
"Moo," the cow mooed in agreement.
Waya chuckled darkly. "Oh, you're dead. I mean, you're a ghost so you're probably already dead. But you're going to be really dead. So dead that NcDonalds won't serve you as their next menu item because you're so dead." Waya made his move at the upper right star. Then he scooped a white stone. "Where?"
The cow nuzzled a spot on the board. Bottom left star. Waya placed it.
The game progressed. For a cow, the ghost was playing well. Extremely well. There was no delay in the cow's decision-making. The flow of the match was not favorable for Waya. He was playing catch-up. The game reached an end.
"I... I have nothing..." Waya realized. He looked up. The cow smirked arrogantly.
A fire reignited in Waya. Losing was normal. But he was a pro now. He couldn't be losing to barnyard animals, never mind one that wore an expression as if it had gotten its milk rather than made it. He picked the board clean and then slammed a black stone at the 3-5 point. The cow directed Waya to its responding move, without any time for consideration.
Another game. Another loss for Waya. He gritted his teeth. Cleared the board. Slammed a black stone at 3-3. The cow immediately countered. Time passed.
"This isn't possible," Waya whispered, stone in hand. He had read to the logical conclusion of the match. Another loss. "This is... this is deja-"
"-moo," the cow mooed in self-satisfaction.
"When you made a move into my territory here I didn't give it enough credit... should have crushed it as soon as possible..." Waya mumbled, studying the board. He rested his chin onto his palm, deep in thought. "Did I get flustered? How could I overlook that?" After a moment, he looked up. "You're pretty good."
The cow wiggled its head to-and-fro. Of course, it seemed to say. Waya looked back down at the snapshot of his defeat.
"I didn't play up to my level. When you make moves so quickly, I feel like you see more of the game than I do." Waya pointed to a spot on the board. "But this move should have been easy to counter. Fuku does it all the time and I keep missing it. He slaps a stone down with such speed and confidence I wonder, 'huh, is there something here?' And then I forget my own strategy and start to follow him across the board."
"Moo," the cow admonished Waya. "Moooooo."
"Yeah. That's passive playing. Sensei is always..." Waya trailed off. His memory formed the boards of his three losses. "This is the curse. This is my curse. The curse of Sisyphus!"
"Moo?"
"I didn't fail all my classes, okay?" Waya's hands dug into one another. "The curse of Sisyphys. Rolling a rock up the hill and it always rolls back down near the top. My losses to you... just like against Fuku. No matter how far I go, Fuku is the rock that keeps crushing me back down!" Waya rose to his feet, fists tight. "Fuku! You're my true rival! Not Shindo! Not Touya! Not Ochi! Not Isumi! It's FUKU!" Waya bent at the waist and swept the stones off the board. "I'm a pro now! I can't lose to this level of play! I'm losing to a cow. A speed playing COW! A GRASS-EATING, DUNG-FILLED, BLITZ-PLAYING BOVINE!" Waya screeched.
"Moo," the cow mooed, offended. Waya took a breath and sat back down. He looked at his shaking hands.
"I can't lose my cool like this. It's how Isumi lost." Waya breathed deep. Waited for his hands to still. He clasped them together and closed his eyes.
"...moo," the cow mooed, once Waya had calmed.
"Sorry. You're not grass-eating or dung-filled. You're a ghost."
"Moo."
Waya opened his eyes. "Okay." He rose and collected the stones strewn across the room. He set the two go bowls in front of himself as he again resumed his place in front of the goban. He looked at his opponent and nodded. The cow nodded back.
Waya started. 3-4 point. The cow selected its countermove without pause. Waya placed the stone on the ghost's behalf.
Then he crossed his arms and pondered.
The cow mooed impatiently. Waya ignored it. He looked across the board and imagined Fuku sitting there. Mooing impatiently. He chuckled. He wouldn't give into that sort of pressure anymore.
Then Waya froze.
The colors of the cow. Black and white.
Black. And. White.
"The color of the stones," Waya whispered. "Don't focus on your opponent. Just the stones. The game." Waya began to laugh: a carefree, young laugh bright with knowing. "You were telling me all along what I should be doing and I was too unwise to notice! Focus on the game! That's right! We're only the go we play!"
"Moo," the cow mooed, confused.
"Thank you! You wonderful cow ghost! Thank you!" Waya leaned across the goban to try and pat the cow. Forgetting that even he had noted his opponent was not just a cow, but a cow ghost.
His hands reached at nothing. His weight pitched forward. He slammed his head against the goban. All was black.
And then, all was white.
The lights had turned back on.
Waya's eyes snapped open and he looked up to see Shindo at the doorway.
"Waya? What are you doing in the dark?" Shindo stepped into the room. "Where's the study group?"
Waya blinked.
"You must be kidding me," Waya whispered.
"No, I'm not kidding. I thought we were going to go over some kifu. I need more practice."
"Sorry Shindo, not now." Waya leapt to his feet. He barged into the next room. "Fuku! Fuku, where are you? I want a match!"
Shindo sighed and looked at the old, dirty goban Waya had somehow managed to uncomfortably sleep on. Drool had collected over the board. Shindo wiped it quickly with the sleeve of his shirt. The stains came right off.
-End-
Author's Note: Dedicated to flonnebonne.