[Kawakami]
by hkfoot
Five Times Hikaru Found Sai Again
I.
Once upon a time, Shindou had said, “I’ll tell you, someday.”
Because Shindou promised to tell him, Akira didn’t mind being dragged out on a sudden trip to Innoshima. He didn’t mind, too much, cancelling his Golden Week plans (he’d backed out of coaching the Japan team for this year’s Hokuto Cup-the Go Association was not happy). He didn’t even mind being woken up to visit Shuusaku’s grave in the middle of the night with Shindou. But he did mind that it had started pouring right when Shindou began his story, that they hadn’t thought to bring umbrellas, and that he could only hear every third word Shindou was shouting at him.
Once upon a time, it was a dark and stormy night.
“What?” Akira shouted.
Shindou shouted something about a ghost, but a roll of thunder drowned him out.
“What? I can’t hear you!”
He didn’t think Shindou could hear him any better, because his rival was gesturing at the grave and then making incomprehensible motions over his head. Akira grabbed Shindou’s wrist and dragged him under the temple roof. The rain crashed against the roof overhead, but it was better.
“Let’s go back to the hotel.”
Hikaru looked bewildered, like he couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to go back to the hotel when it was pouring rain and conversation was all but impossible. “But don’t you want to hear about Sai?”
Akira wanted to beat Shindou over the head. He restrained himself. “Yes, I do. But if you hadn’t noticed, it’s raining so hard I can hardly hear you.”
“But it’s easier here,” Shindou said. “It’s easier today. Now, when no one else is around.”
It was May fifth, around four in the morning, and Shindou had that uncertain look in his eyes. “Okay,” Akira said. “Tell me here, then. We don’t have to be standing right in front of Shuusaku’s grave, do we?”
“No, I guess not.” Shindou looked around. For what, Akira wondered. It was too dark to see anything, and no one was likely to be around. Hikaru said, “It’s just…this is one of Sai’s graves. Maybe his only one.”
Sai was dead, and buried in the same graveyard as Honinbo Shuusaku?
“Hikaru?” a small voice said. Something tugged on Akira’s soaked trousers, and he looked down.
A tiny child stared up at him. It was hard to tell if the child was a boy or a girl. Long hair hung behind the child in a heavy waterlogged mass, while stray strands stuck messily to the child’s face. The child wore a thin cotton kimono, soaked completely through. They blinked at each other, and then the child let go. “Sorry,” the child-a boy, Akira decided-said, and tugged on Shindou’s sopping wet jeans instead. The boy barely came up to Shindou’s knee. Shindou stared down, his mouth half-open.
“Hikaru?” The child didn’t let go of Shindou’s pant leg.
Hikaru mouthed something. He crouched down to see the child better, and Akira bent down with him. “Do you know him, Shindou?”
Hikaru touched the boy’s arm. “You…” Hikaru shook his head and laughed ruefully. “I must be going crazy.” He bit his lip. “What’s a kid like you doing out here at this time of night? You should be at home.”
“Aren’t you Hikaru?” the child asked.
Something about the child, whether it was his appearance or his familiar address, seemed to move something inside of Shindou; his rival grew very still, and said in a gentle tone that Akira had never heard him use, “Yes, I’m Hikaru.”
For a moment, the child looked confused. But then he smiled. “I’m Fujiwara no Sai. You’re Hikaru!”
Shindou hugged the boy. “Sai!” A crack of thunder drowned out all other sounds, but Touya thought he saw Shindou crying.
Sai didn’t remember much, only his own name, a face his mind labeled “Hikaru,” and a hundred thousand go games. The rest didn’t matter. Hikaru would take care of him. The Hikaru in his mind was younger than the one he found at the graveyard, so he hadn’t been sure at first. But Hikaru was Hikaru! Hikaru was warmth and safety and joy-and go!
He cried when they left the graveyard. There was someone important buried there. He was leaving someone important behind. But he had gained someone important too. He clung to Hikaru. It was an exchange of territory, just like in go.
II.
Weird things had happened in his life, but Hikaru had never expected anything like this. He hadmoved out only two weeks ago, and already his room was completely different. The bed was covered by a blanket decorated with colorful cats and dogs. Kid books filled the shelves where he used to keep his manga. But the weirdest thing was that on the floor, there was a go board with legs, just like the one he had taken to his new apartment. Stones were arranged on it-a kifu, half played out. He could see his mother being annoying and redecorating or whatever, but he knew that she couldn’t play go to save her life. He went downstairs to the kitchen.
“Hey Mom, what happened to my room? Did Grandpa come play go there or something?”
She gave him a funny look. “Your brother wanted to switch to your room when you moved out, remember? You said you didn’t mind.”
“Oh.” Something was terribly strange here. “But I don’t have a brother.”
His mother sighed. “Hikaru, don’t say something like that. It’s not funny.”
“What?”
She shook her head. “He’s at his insei class, but he should be home soon. He’s been waiting for you to come back all week.”
They heard the front door open. “I’m home! Where’s Hikaru-onii-chan?”
“Welcome back,” his mother called. “He’s with me in the kitchen.”
Running footsteps, and then a familiar, beaming face. “Hikaru!”
Hikaru stared, stunned.
Sai, elementary school-sized, dropped his bag and ran to hug Hikaru. “Hikaru! Hikaru, it’s me! I’m your brother! Sai!”
Hikaru laughed and cried. “Sai! Why..? How?”
Mitsuko watched her sons’ teary reunion in bewilderment. Ever since Hikaru had taken up go, she had found it more and more difficult to understand him. And Sai’s strongest connection had always been with his brother, not her. It shouldn’t have been surprising that she couldn’t understand why Hikaru and Sai acted like they had been separated for years, not just two weeks.
“Maybe you should move back home, Hikaru,” she said. “There’s no reason you have to move out, and Sai misses you.”
Hikaru blinked at her, and even through his tears, he managed to make his old, annoyed, stop-mothering-me face. “No way! If anything, Sai should move out with me!”
Sai’s eyes widened. “Yes, please, Mother!”
Even if she couldn’t fully understand the depth of Sai’s connection with Hikaru, Mitsuko was still their mother, and she had to draw the line somewhere. “No. Sai stays home.”
Sai said, “What if I become a go pro? Can I move in with Hikaru-onii-chan then?”
Mitsuko wavered. Hikaru had become a go professional at fourteen, but Sai was only seven now. Surely she had several more years before Sai became a professional. But she felt uneasy. “That’s still a long time off,” she said.
Sai turned back to his brother. “I’m staying here this time,” he said, “so don’t worry. I won’t leave you again.”
It didn’t seem like Sai was talking about staying at home.
III.
Shindou 8-dan, recently minted Shindou Tengen, was 23 when Sai reentered his world.
“Shindou,” Ogata called in the lobby of the Go Institute after a game day. “Have you heard the results of this year’s pro exam?”
“No.” Hikaru had grown less edgy around Ogata over the years, but whatever Touya said about him, Hikaru couldn’t quite let down his guard completely.
“An eight-year-old passed. And what’s more, he passed undefeated.”
“Eight? Is that even legal?”
Ogata shrugged. “There’s nothing illegal about it, as long as the parents and person in question consent.” He paused to make sure Hikaru was paying attention. “The child’s name is Sai. Fujiwara Sai.”
“Sai?” Hikaru paled. “Crap, I, uh, just remembered I forgot something upstairs.” He ran back toward the elevator and punched the button.
Ogata smirked. “I’ve already requested to play him in the Shin Shodan Series.”
“You did?” The elevator door opened, and after several seconds, closed again. Shindou turned slowly back toward Ogata and the front entrance. “Good. Good for you.” He cursed him silently.
“Title holders need to keep an eye on not only their rivals, but also those far below them. Let this be a lesson for you.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the lesson.” Hikaru pressed the elevator button again and rode up to the Weekly Go office. He knew there was a reason Ogata had been wearing that smug look every time he passed him recently. Maybe he could find out Sai’s phone number, at least.
But the Weekly Go people refused to give him anything. It was confidential, particularly given Fujiwara-kun’s young age, they said.
Ogata might still have been loitering around in the lobby, so Hikaru went up to the eighth floor to the kifu room. When the elevator doors opened, a young boy made to get on, but he froze when he saw Hikaru. “Ah, I’m sorry!” The boy bowed, and two unbound locks of long hair fell forward. Having gotten his first title not too long ago, Hikaru wasn’t used to this reaction yet.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said, stepping off the elevator, and the boy peeked up.
It was a face both familiar and unfamiliar, but one long missed.
It took Hikaru two tries to find his voice. “You’re…Sai?”
The boy jumped. “Yes sir?”
It was Sai, unmistakably. But he looked too nervous and scared for a former ghost meeting his former host. He looked like an intimidated insei meeting a titleholder for the first time. Hikaru restrained his first instinct and asked instead, “Do you know me?”
“Of course! You’re Shindou Tengen-sensei.”
“Yes, but…is that all?”
Sai bit his lip. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”
Hikaru had so much to say to Sai, and so much to ask. Why did you leave me? Will you stay this time? Have you really forgotten those two years we spent together? Are you proud of me?
But this wasn’t the same Sai, not exactly. It was unfair to burden Sai with the past when he had clearly moved on.
Hikaru swallowed, then stuck out his hand and grinned. “Congratulations on passing the pro exam. Welcome to the world of the pros.”
Sai looked at him with reverence as he shook his hand. “Thank you, Shindou-sensei.”
“Call me Hikaru.”
Sai shook his head, looking uncomfortable. “I’m honored, but I couldn’t possibly, Shindou-sensei.”
Hikaru’s grin faded a little. Things wouldn’t be the same. “Can’t at least you try?” he asked, and immediately regretted not keeping his big mouth shut. Things shouldn’t be the same, no matter how much he wanted them to be. It wasn’t fair to Sai. “Or at least come join my study group,” he amended.
“Really?” Sai bowed. “I would love to. Thank you, Shi-I mean, Hi-Hikaru-sensei!”
IV.
The Chinese first board looked exactly like Sai. He was one year older than Hikaru, and for the life of him, Hikaru couldn’t figure out how, if this Qi Wei really was Sai’s reincarnation or whatever, Sai had ended up older than him. But then again, what did he know about reincarnation?
Anyways, whoever the Chinese first board was, he looked an awful lot like Sai. And his go was an awful lot like Sai’s.
Maybe-Sai had wiped the board with Ko Yeong-ha in the China versus Korea match, much to Hikaru’s satisfaction. Hikaru had congratulated him after the game, and maybe-Sai had spoken effusively in Chinese before taking Hikaru by surprise and giving him a big hug.
“Are you Sai?” Hikaru asked, when maybe-Sai’s hold on him had loosened enough for him to breathe again.
Maybe-Sai furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Pointing to himself, he enunciated, “Qi Wei.” And then he smiled and hugged Hikaru again. “Hikaru!” he said triumphantly.
But then Yang Hai had called the Chinese team back, and probably-Sai had given Hikaru a final squeeze and jabbered some more in Chinese before running back to his team.
“What was that about?” Touya asked.
Hikaru shrugged, his eyes following the Chinese team out the door. “It won’t be an easy match tomorrow.”
“Their first board is really something.” Touya turned to Hikaru curiously. “But why was he so friendly with you?”
Hikaru scratched his head. “I’ll tell you after I figure it out. After I play him tomorrow.”
The next day, after China accepted their first place trophy and all the speeches were done, Hikaru exchanged email addresses with most-definitely-Sai.
“This sucks. You are so learning Japanese before the next time I see you,” Hikaru told him.
V.
A few days after they replaced the electric fish aquarium in the Go Institute with a potted fern, Hikaru found himself buying a fish tank for his apartment.
Sai would have liked these clown fish, he thought, so he bought three. Then the store clerk recommended a bottom feeder or catfish to eat the food that fell to the pebbles. He bought one of each.
On his way to the checkout counter, a tank with a single fish in it caught his eye. Other than its black head, it was completely white. Its large fins were thin and translucent, and waved gently through the water as it swam. It reminded Hikaru of Sai’s robes. The fish was studiously picking up stones and spitting them out at the bottom of the tank.
Hikaru tapped the glass, but the fish ignored him and continued with its task.
“I bet you’d be good at go,” Hikaru said. He looked for the store clerk and pointed at the tank. “I want this guy too!”
The fish swam up to his finger and tried to nibble it through the glass.
Hikaru smiled when he noticed. “Let’s go home, Sai. You can’t play go alone.”
Five Times Hikaru Found Sai Again
I.
Once upon a time, Shindou had said, “I’ll tell you, someday.”
Because Shindou promised to tell him, Akira didn’t mind being dragged out on a sudden trip to Innoshima. He didn’t mind, too much, cancelling his Golden Week plans (he’d backed out of coaching the Japan team for this year’s Hokuto Cup-the Go Association was not happy). He didn’t even mind being woken up to visit Shuusaku’s grave in the middle of the night with Shindou. But he did mind that it had started pouring right when Shindou began his story, that they hadn’t thought to bring umbrellas, and that he could only hear every third word Shindou was shouting at him.
Once upon a time, it was a dark and stormy night.
“What?” Akira shouted.
Shindou shouted something about a ghost, but a roll of thunder drowned him out.
“What? I can’t hear you!”
He didn’t think Shindou could hear him any better, because his rival was gesturing at the grave and then making incomprehensible motions over his head. Akira grabbed Shindou’s wrist and dragged him under the temple roof. The rain crashed against the roof overhead, but it was better.
“Let’s go back to the hotel.”
Hikaru looked bewildered, like he couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to go back to the hotel when it was pouring rain and conversation was all but impossible. “But don’t you want to hear about Sai?”
Akira wanted to beat Shindou over the head. He restrained himself. “Yes, I do. But if you hadn’t noticed, it’s raining so hard I can hardly hear you.”
“But it’s easier here,” Shindou said. “It’s easier today. Now, when no one else is around.”
It was May fifth, around four in the morning, and Shindou had that uncertain look in his eyes. “Okay,” Akira said. “Tell me here, then. We don’t have to be standing right in front of Shuusaku’s grave, do we?”
“No, I guess not.” Shindou looked around. For what, Akira wondered. It was too dark to see anything, and no one was likely to be around. Hikaru said, “It’s just…this is one of Sai’s graves. Maybe his only one.”
Sai was dead, and buried in the same graveyard as Honinbo Shuusaku?
“Hikaru?” a small voice said. Something tugged on Akira’s soaked trousers, and he looked down.
A tiny child stared up at him. It was hard to tell if the child was a boy or a girl. Long hair hung behind the child in a heavy waterlogged mass, while stray strands stuck messily to the child’s face. The child wore a thin cotton kimono, soaked completely through. They blinked at each other, and then the child let go. “Sorry,” the child-a boy, Akira decided-said, and tugged on Shindou’s sopping wet jeans instead. The boy barely came up to Shindou’s knee. Shindou stared down, his mouth half-open.
“Hikaru?” The child didn’t let go of Shindou’s pant leg.
Hikaru mouthed something. He crouched down to see the child better, and Akira bent down with him. “Do you know him, Shindou?”
Hikaru touched the boy’s arm. “You…” Hikaru shook his head and laughed ruefully. “I must be going crazy.” He bit his lip. “What’s a kid like you doing out here at this time of night? You should be at home.”
“Aren’t you Hikaru?” the child asked.
Something about the child, whether it was his appearance or his familiar address, seemed to move something inside of Shindou; his rival grew very still, and said in a gentle tone that Akira had never heard him use, “Yes, I’m Hikaru.”
For a moment, the child looked confused. But then he smiled. “I’m Fujiwara no Sai. You’re Hikaru!”
Shindou hugged the boy. “Sai!” A crack of thunder drowned out all other sounds, but Touya thought he saw Shindou crying.
Sai didn’t remember much, only his own name, a face his mind labeled “Hikaru,” and a hundred thousand go games. The rest didn’t matter. Hikaru would take care of him. The Hikaru in his mind was younger than the one he found at the graveyard, so he hadn’t been sure at first. But Hikaru was Hikaru! Hikaru was warmth and safety and joy-and go!
He cried when they left the graveyard. There was someone important buried there. He was leaving someone important behind. But he had gained someone important too. He clung to Hikaru. It was an exchange of territory, just like in go.
II.
Weird things had happened in his life, but Hikaru had never expected anything like this. He hadmoved out only two weeks ago, and already his room was completely different. The bed was covered by a blanket decorated with colorful cats and dogs. Kid books filled the shelves where he used to keep his manga. But the weirdest thing was that on the floor, there was a go board with legs, just like the one he had taken to his new apartment. Stones were arranged on it-a kifu, half played out. He could see his mother being annoying and redecorating or whatever, but he knew that she couldn’t play go to save her life. He went downstairs to the kitchen.
“Hey Mom, what happened to my room? Did Grandpa come play go there or something?”
She gave him a funny look. “Your brother wanted to switch to your room when you moved out, remember? You said you didn’t mind.”
“Oh.” Something was terribly strange here. “But I don’t have a brother.”
His mother sighed. “Hikaru, don’t say something like that. It’s not funny.”
“What?”
She shook her head. “He’s at his insei class, but he should be home soon. He’s been waiting for you to come back all week.”
They heard the front door open. “I’m home! Where’s Hikaru-onii-chan?”
“Welcome back,” his mother called. “He’s with me in the kitchen.”
Running footsteps, and then a familiar, beaming face. “Hikaru!”
Hikaru stared, stunned.
Sai, elementary school-sized, dropped his bag and ran to hug Hikaru. “Hikaru! Hikaru, it’s me! I’m your brother! Sai!”
Hikaru laughed and cried. “Sai! Why..? How?”
Mitsuko watched her sons’ teary reunion in bewilderment. Ever since Hikaru had taken up go, she had found it more and more difficult to understand him. And Sai’s strongest connection had always been with his brother, not her. It shouldn’t have been surprising that she couldn’t understand why Hikaru and Sai acted like they had been separated for years, not just two weeks.
“Maybe you should move back home, Hikaru,” she said. “There’s no reason you have to move out, and Sai misses you.”
Hikaru blinked at her, and even through his tears, he managed to make his old, annoyed, stop-mothering-me face. “No way! If anything, Sai should move out with me!”
Sai’s eyes widened. “Yes, please, Mother!”
Even if she couldn’t fully understand the depth of Sai’s connection with Hikaru, Mitsuko was still their mother, and she had to draw the line somewhere. “No. Sai stays home.”
Sai said, “What if I become a go pro? Can I move in with Hikaru-onii-chan then?”
Mitsuko wavered. Hikaru had become a go professional at fourteen, but Sai was only seven now. Surely she had several more years before Sai became a professional. But she felt uneasy. “That’s still a long time off,” she said.
Sai turned back to his brother. “I’m staying here this time,” he said, “so don’t worry. I won’t leave you again.”
It didn’t seem like Sai was talking about staying at home.
III.
Shindou 8-dan, recently minted Shindou Tengen, was 23 when Sai reentered his world.
“Shindou,” Ogata called in the lobby of the Go Institute after a game day. “Have you heard the results of this year’s pro exam?”
“No.” Hikaru had grown less edgy around Ogata over the years, but whatever Touya said about him, Hikaru couldn’t quite let down his guard completely.
“An eight-year-old passed. And what’s more, he passed undefeated.”
“Eight? Is that even legal?”
Ogata shrugged. “There’s nothing illegal about it, as long as the parents and person in question consent.” He paused to make sure Hikaru was paying attention. “The child’s name is Sai. Fujiwara Sai.”
“Sai?” Hikaru paled. “Crap, I, uh, just remembered I forgot something upstairs.” He ran back toward the elevator and punched the button.
Ogata smirked. “I’ve already requested to play him in the Shin Shodan Series.”
“You did?” The elevator door opened, and after several seconds, closed again. Shindou turned slowly back toward Ogata and the front entrance. “Good. Good for you.” He cursed him silently.
“Title holders need to keep an eye on not only their rivals, but also those far below them. Let this be a lesson for you.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the lesson.” Hikaru pressed the elevator button again and rode up to the Weekly Go office. He knew there was a reason Ogata had been wearing that smug look every time he passed him recently. Maybe he could find out Sai’s phone number, at least.
But the Weekly Go people refused to give him anything. It was confidential, particularly given Fujiwara-kun’s young age, they said.
Ogata might still have been loitering around in the lobby, so Hikaru went up to the eighth floor to the kifu room. When the elevator doors opened, a young boy made to get on, but he froze when he saw Hikaru. “Ah, I’m sorry!” The boy bowed, and two unbound locks of long hair fell forward. Having gotten his first title not too long ago, Hikaru wasn’t used to this reaction yet.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said, stepping off the elevator, and the boy peeked up.
It was a face both familiar and unfamiliar, but one long missed.
It took Hikaru two tries to find his voice. “You’re…Sai?”
The boy jumped. “Yes sir?”
It was Sai, unmistakably. But he looked too nervous and scared for a former ghost meeting his former host. He looked like an intimidated insei meeting a titleholder for the first time. Hikaru restrained his first instinct and asked instead, “Do you know me?”
“Of course! You’re Shindou Tengen-sensei.”
“Yes, but…is that all?”
Sai bit his lip. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”
Hikaru had so much to say to Sai, and so much to ask. Why did you leave me? Will you stay this time? Have you really forgotten those two years we spent together? Are you proud of me?
But this wasn’t the same Sai, not exactly. It was unfair to burden Sai with the past when he had clearly moved on.
Hikaru swallowed, then stuck out his hand and grinned. “Congratulations on passing the pro exam. Welcome to the world of the pros.”
Sai looked at him with reverence as he shook his hand. “Thank you, Shindou-sensei.”
“Call me Hikaru.”
Sai shook his head, looking uncomfortable. “I’m honored, but I couldn’t possibly, Shindou-sensei.”
Hikaru’s grin faded a little. Things wouldn’t be the same. “Can’t at least you try?” he asked, and immediately regretted not keeping his big mouth shut. Things shouldn’t be the same, no matter how much he wanted them to be. It wasn’t fair to Sai. “Or at least come join my study group,” he amended.
“Really?” Sai bowed. “I would love to. Thank you, Shi-I mean, Hi-Hikaru-sensei!”
IV.
The Chinese first board looked exactly like Sai. He was one year older than Hikaru, and for the life of him, Hikaru couldn’t figure out how, if this Qi Wei really was Sai’s reincarnation or whatever, Sai had ended up older than him. But then again, what did he know about reincarnation?
Anyways, whoever the Chinese first board was, he looked an awful lot like Sai. And his go was an awful lot like Sai’s.
Maybe-Sai had wiped the board with Ko Yeong-ha in the China versus Korea match, much to Hikaru’s satisfaction. Hikaru had congratulated him after the game, and maybe-Sai had spoken effusively in Chinese before taking Hikaru by surprise and giving him a big hug.
“Are you Sai?” Hikaru asked, when maybe-Sai’s hold on him had loosened enough for him to breathe again.
Maybe-Sai furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Pointing to himself, he enunciated, “Qi Wei.” And then he smiled and hugged Hikaru again. “Hikaru!” he said triumphantly.
But then Yang Hai had called the Chinese team back, and probably-Sai had given Hikaru a final squeeze and jabbered some more in Chinese before running back to his team.
“What was that about?” Touya asked.
Hikaru shrugged, his eyes following the Chinese team out the door. “It won’t be an easy match tomorrow.”
“Their first board is really something.” Touya turned to Hikaru curiously. “But why was he so friendly with you?”
Hikaru scratched his head. “I’ll tell you after I figure it out. After I play him tomorrow.”
The next day, after China accepted their first place trophy and all the speeches were done, Hikaru exchanged email addresses with most-definitely-Sai.
“This sucks. You are so learning Japanese before the next time I see you,” Hikaru told him.
V.
A few days after they replaced the electric fish aquarium in the Go Institute with a potted fern, Hikaru found himself buying a fish tank for his apartment.
Sai would have liked these clown fish, he thought, so he bought three. Then the store clerk recommended a bottom feeder or catfish to eat the food that fell to the pebbles. He bought one of each.
On his way to the checkout counter, a tank with a single fish in it caught his eye. Other than its black head, it was completely white. Its large fins were thin and translucent, and waved gently through the water as it swam. It reminded Hikaru of Sai’s robes. The fish was studiously picking up stones and spitting them out at the bottom of the tank.
Hikaru tapped the glass, but the fish ignored him and continued with its task.
“I bet you’d be good at go,” Hikaru said. He looked for the store clerk and pointed at the tank. “I want this guy too!”
The fish swam up to his finger and tried to nibble it through the glass.
Hikaru smiled when he noticed. “Let’s go home, Sai. You can’t play go alone.”