Blind Go Part 2
Akira has little patience for many things. Idiots are one of them. Rumors are another. Loud people at a movie theatre may be a third, but courtesy is something for which he has infinite patience.
That is why he does not grab Shindou's cell phone and end the call.
Ogata, though, has no such compunction. Long fingers snatch the phone, and amidst the surprised squawking, he snaps it shut.
"Explain." He jabs a finger down to the paper, at the spot just above the kanji for "Sai."
Shindou's eyebrows draw together. "Ah. That."
"Yes. This." Ogata's voice lowers dangerously.
Shindou immediately backs away two steps, hands spread in front of him as if trying to ward off an physical attack.
"Tsutsui is an old friend of mine. We were in the same igo club when I was in middle school. He's sorta a geek, but he's crazy about go, especially the strategy books and the history. He's some big programmer for Japan Aerospace now, but he's never really stopped being obsessed about kifu and strategy."
"Is there a point to this trip down memory lane?" Ogata says.
Shindou glares at him. "You ever heard of Ugoigowigo.com?"
Ogata makes an assertive sort of grunt. But when Akira blinks at him, Shindou sighs.
"It's one of, if not the biggest igo resource sites out there. Tsutsui spends crazy amounts of time putting in all the kifu in this giant cross reference database -- you can search by pro names or dates and titles. And he got all the audio and visuals too, like interviews, televised matches, and virtual matches --- and he's even working on recreating some of the older ones. Plus he also hosts one of the biggest amateur message boards and blogspaces. People from all over tend to gossip there, so I asked him yesterday to keep an eye out on what kind of shit was being said or if anything weird was leaked out. Just in case it's outside just who I know, yeah?"
As he speaks, Shindou doodles a few random patterns on the paper. He stops when Ogata whips the pencil out of his hand and slams it down on the table.
"Shindou. I am losing my patience."
"Nicotine withdrawal much?" Shindou raises an eyebrow. "Of course, after news of my forfeits got out, there was a surge of interest. But Tsutsui had another idea, so he ran some sort of program which tagged all the files that cross reference my name. Anyways, that's when it got really interesting. Especially when he expanded the parameters to cover past hits and downloads on his kifu archives."
"And?" Ogata's tone drops another octave.
"It may not mean anything. But right before the Tengen match, someone pulled all my kifu records. And not just mine, but the same person pulled all of Shusaku Honinbou's records, and all Sai's internet matches." Shindou rolls the pencil in his hand. He draws a line connecting the circles with his name and the others together.
"Maybe it was someone doing research on your games, and your playing style. We all pull kifu to study," Akira points out. "And it's no secret that you're a fan of Shusaku Honinbou."
"Yeah, it might just be someone doing research but Tsustui thought it was really weird -- it's years worth of records! No one can read all that in one night! Tsutsui said it's as if the person wanted us to see the mega-download and trace it. And with the timing ..."
Ogata sits back in the chair. "Perhaps someone is trying to get you interested in the chase? A lure?"
"The better question," Akira says, "is why they think Shindou would know to look for them online?"
"Well, if someone wanted to hide their faces and still play, the internet's where they'd go. I mean, that's how ... uh ... Sai did it. They're doing the same thing to me that ..." Shindou carefully avoids looking at Ogata.
"Anyway, Tsutsui's hunting it down. I don't understand it all, but he's very excited. I guess it's kinda like a giant nerd challenge to him. It might be awhile though --" Shindou rolls his eyes, "it's always been his weakness in igo, not being able to move 'til he's checked all the strategies and tactics to be absolutely sure. Meanwhile, he gave me one name to ask you, Ogata-sensei. Aoidai. Does that mean anything? Maybe a netgo player? He says it's a prominent user name connected to all of this."
"No. But I don't know all the names; I generally do not pay attention to weak players. And like I said, there hasn't been a talent like Sai since Sai disappeared. And that's the level we're looking for," Ogata narrows his eyes as he speaks. Shindou studies the floor rather intently. "It's possible he uses another pseudonym elsewhere though. That's the problem with the net -- there are no faces."
"I have Waya looking into it too. He's pretty into this sort of stuff, and he keeps tabs on the rising players elsewhere too," Shindou says as he punches the keys on his cell.
"Waya? Yeah. Find anything? Not yet, huh. Listen, I have another favor to ask, you know the website Ugoigowigo.com? I'm sorta friends with the webmaster and --" Shindou pulls the phone away from his face. "Arrrgh! Stop yelling. No, I don't make it a point to keep all the interesting people I know a secret! Jeez!"
Scowling, Shindou stands up, walking into another room. Akira has to tamp down on the urge to follow him. Ogata's restraint surprises him, however.
"Ogata-san?"
"I doubt Zelda-kun can tell him anything I don't know," Ogata shrugs. "There is no hidden player in netgo at the moment. At least not at Sai's level. But that doesn't rule out the possibility that ..."
"It's not Sai," Akira says. "Why are you pushing Shindou so much on that?"
"Why aren't you? You believe him?" Ogata raises an eyebrow. "Or has he given you inside information?"
"No." Akira puts both hands on the tabletop. He holds Ogata's gaze firmly.
"Then you trust him more than is wise, perhaps."
"Maybe. But it is my decision to make." Akira smiles, leaving the man to narrow his eyes.
A moment later, Shindou pads back into the kitchen. "Waya's going to talk with Tsutsui-sempai and try to hurry him along. Man, talk about geeking out. You'd think I told him the Emperor was my second cousin. A secret netgo player ... damn. Can't this ever be easy?!"
"Frustrating, isn't it? To have someone like that out there you cannot catch." Ogata smirks slightly as he pushes back on his seat. "But I do have a request to ask of you."
"Yeah?" Shindou's mouth narrows into a wary line. "What do you want?"
"Can I have Tsutsui-san's number as well?"
---
Akira doesn't even bother to stay in his room for the night. He changes into his pajamas and heads for the guest room. Shindou looks up from the bed. As expected, his kifu lay scattered around him, like leaves blown free.
Shindou doesn't look particularly surprised at Akira's appearance. Papers in hand, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, slides off, and settles himself in the exact center of the futon. Akira shoves him over so he would have room to sit too.
"Do you have any matches tomorrow?" Shindou asks.
"No matches, but I must oversee the Enriching Retirees Charity Event," Akira says.
"Fun. Be careful not to overdo the prune juice," Shindou says. His hands shuffle through the kifu again, one by one.
"Find anything interesting?"
"Not yet, but I bet the answer's here." Shindou sorts through the papers. "My games. Shuusaku's. Everyone in that tournament."
"Sai's as well." Akira says and notes how Shindou shudders, ever so lightly. "That's what I find a little strange, actually. Your obsession with Shuusaku is public knowledge. But how does this person know of your connection to Sai? For all intents and purposes, to the majority of the public, Sai only existed on the internet."
Shindou drums his fingers lightly against the futon. A half-frown graces his face.
Akira laces his fingers together. "My father knows you have a connection with him. Ogata knows. And I know. So how or when did this person make that connection? It's been years."
Shindou will not meet his eyes. "Waya knows. Kinda. He even asked me once, if I was Sai's disciple."
Shindou's fingers ruffle the edges of the kifu. "And I think he might have mentioned his theories to other Sai fanatics. That's probably how."
"Waya did spend an entire amateur's tournament vocally looking for the man." Akira sighs. "That explains it. I thought there would be a connection there. I think that's the part that bothers me most. Whoever this is, he knows a lot about you and your connections -- both spoken and unspoken. It's almost personal, in the secrecy of it all, and in the way he's almost issued a challenge for you to chase."
Speaking the thought aloud makes Akira curl his fingers tightly into the cloth of the blanket.
Shindou frowns. "That just gives me the creeps."
"Anyways, perhaps you should ask Waya-kun to review who he knows."
"Already on it," Shindou mumbles. "There's just so many possibilities. I haven't kept up with netgo. And now Sai's name is all twisted up into it. Can you believe people are still looking? After all this time. You'd think they'd give up by now, but each year, the theories get crazier."
"There's no time limit on stalking geniuses," Akira points out, ignoring Shindou's scowl, "but is that why you don't play netgo?"
"Yeah, sorta." Shindou waves the question off. "Hey, why don't you keep up with netgo?"
Shindou's tactic of deflecting Akira's question with an attack of his own -- Akira is too good to fall for that sort of play.
But there are merits to yielding.
"I'm too much like my father, I suppose. I'd rather have real stones and real wood before me. Netgo is good, and it's not like I didn't enjoy my brief time playing online, but I missed the component of actually meeting your opponent face to face," he shrugs. "Perhaps it's a little backwards and old fashioned of me, but it seems more real."
"Real?" Shindou's hands stray away from the paper. "What do you mean?"
"I don't deny the fact the netgo does provide a lot of excitement. And my game with Sai on the net is -- on most levels -- just as real and distinct as any of my games with anyone else."
Shindou's breath catches. "As real and distinct as ... mine?"
It's an odd question. Akira thinks it over carefully, weighing answers. It seems important, somehow. "Yes. On most levels -- the games themselves are real enough. But netgo is not for me. Perhaps it's merely that I've grown out of chasing mysteries. Like I said, I prefer have a game I can touch, with an opponent I can see clearly in front of me."
"Games you can see, huh?" Shindou leans back against the wall. "Opponents you can touch."
"That's not quite what I said," Akira points out. "But close enough. I just prefer to play you face to face. The component of actual interaction is irreplaceable."
"Huh," Shindou is absolutely still; he doesn't even seem to be breathing. His hands lie quiescent in his lap.
"I have to add, it is also wholly unsatisfying to point your errors out to you over the net. I prefer having you in front of me, so I can yell at you in person," Akira puts in the candor, because something is growing in Shindou's expression, something that makes him uneasy.
"Ah. Um," Shindou mumbles. "Touya?"
"Yes?"
"Before, you said you saw the truth in my igo," Shindou scratches the side of his face.
Akira tilts his head. He gestures for Shindou to continue.
"You trust me," Shindou's voice drops to a bare whisper, so Akira has to lean in to hear. "But Ogata's right. It's not like I've been giving you any reason. You know I have a connection to Sai. But no matter how much you've asked, I've never told you. And for some reason, this time, even though you had more right than you ever did before, you didn't. You didn't ask."
Shindou stops. His breaths come short and shallow, and when he reaches a hand towards his duffel bag by the side of the futon, Akira can see the fingers tremble. Shindou digs through the clothes and pulls something out. It is his fan.
They both stare the object for a long moment; Shindou because he seems to be mustering his thoughts and Akira because it's unnerving watching Shindou as he is mustering his thoughts -- while at the same time knowing the Shindou is thinking about him.
"You said you saw the truth in my games. But how can you? I've never told you anything. So what do you see, when you play me?" Shindou finally looks up, and in his eyes is the empty, hollow look of rain and things washed away.
This isn't the Shindou Akira knows so well, this isn't the brash and confident young man. This is the Shindou he met in the garden two nights ago, shivering and lost in the spring rain.
And the same, odd thoughts stir again. Caught in that strange, drowning gaze, Akira yields an instinct deeper than thought. He leans forward.
Shindou's lips are dry. And the kiss isn't exactly passionate, especially since Akira has caught the other man by surprise, but there is an undeniable intimacy and something infinitely more comfortable than raw desire (though that is there too -- making Akira's toes curl). It lasts for few aching seconds before Akira pulls away.
Shindou's eyes are still closed a full five seconds after they part. One hand drifts up, rubbing his mouth gently. And when Shindou's eyes open again, there is nothing left of rain and emptiness. The gaze is pure, bewildered Shindou Hikaru.
"You. It ... kiss?" Shindou blurts out. His eyes are so wide that it makes Akira wonder if Shindou's eyebrows ache. "You ... it ...Holy shit!"
Akira rubs his own lips sheepishly. Suddenly, the idea of frogs and princesses and the wish to transform Shindou back seems absurd.
"Oh." Shindou blinks. "Uh. Um."
Face flushing red, Akira pushes to his feet. "I ... don't ... I ... didn't know any other way to tell you that ... I see you! And it's not just about your igo or in your igo! You're not just your igo, all right? I see you before me, the real you, even when you seem to have gone and lost yourself. I see you and that's who I ...I ..."
Akira backs away, fumbling for the doorknob behind him. "But ah ... it occurs to me that maybe I should've seen you in another way because you probably don't see me in that way and ... "
Almost faster than thought, Shindou's hand shoots out and grabs the hem of his pants.
"Don't go. I-it's okay. I just didn't expect -- I mean I was just getting enough guts together to tell you about Sai when you ... you ..." Shindou's fingers dance in the air, as if trying to mime the confusion that his words cannot quite express.
"You were just about to tell me what?!" Akira blinks. "Sai?"
"Yes." Shindou nods bewilderedly.
"About Sai?"
"Yes."
"But then I ..." Akira sits down again. He rubs a hand against his chest, suddenly feeling two very conflicting emotions. "Oh. Oh. I may have messed that up. But you didn't look like you were going to tell me! You looked like you were -- uh," drowning, his mind supplies.
"It's fine!" Shindou's face has turned a flaming red as well. "You ... you didn't mess that up. I mean, I sorta well ... I guess it wasn't a bad kiss."
"You guess it wasn't bad?"
"You surprised me. It's not like I got to kiss back. So it's like ... half ... a kiss. But I ... I still sorta l-liked it. Kinda. A lot." Shindou mutters. "Do you um ... wanna ... you know ... again?"
"Yes, but ... but .. Sai! You were going to tell me about him!?" Akira rubs his forehead.
"Okay. Sai. Yeah. Sai." Shindou scratches his nose. "I've kinda lost my train of thought."
Akira has to admit, albeit silently, that he's lost as well. Force of habit steps in to replace uncertainty; he veers back to the oldest thing he has ever pursued about his rival.
"Sai. You were really going to tell me about Sai, after all this time, after all that crap you put me through, after being such an exasperating ass --"
Shindou, however, isn't listening. "You kissed me! You actually, wow, I mean, it's you and you're aways so neat and prissy and everything and I've always thought that I would have to --"
They are both talking at the same time; Akira can't hear himself well enough, much less Shindou.
And by the way Shindou is banging the palm of his hand against his forehead, Akira is beginning to have serious misgivings. He grabs the moving hand, forcing Shindou to look at him. "So. Um."
"Uh," Shindou's eyes shift towards Akira's hand, and at their interlaced fingers. He tightens his grip, though, when Akira tries to jerk away.
They both end up staring at the floor for yet another moment.
"So, about Sai --"
"So, about the kissing thing --"
Again they stare at the floor.
"This isn't how I pictured this would go." Akira pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand.
Shindou's nose crinkles up. "You pictured you would uh ... kiss me?"
"No, actually, I pictured you as a frog, but let's not go into that." Akira ignores Shindou's bewildered look. And since he has his rival off guard, "Look, let's start with Sai."
"Ah. Um. Frog? Okay, okay. Sai. Start with Sai. How do I start --" finally letting go of Akira's hand, Shindou fumbles at the fan, nervously twiddling the slats. "Shit, Touya! I can't concentrate! Are you sure you don't want to uh start with the uh ..."
Shindou touches his lips and peers over the edges of his fingers.
"There's nothing more to say. That's how I feel." Akira tells him flatly. "That's why I made that move. It's up to you whether or not you reply."
Akira straightens his shoulders. "I can't, I won't take it back either. But if you choose not to respond, well, that's an ... acceptable move too. I shall play elsewhere."
He cannot tell if Shindou is smiling or smirking behind his fingers, but something softens in Shindou's expression.
"You shall play elsewhere?! Oh, you are such a dork," he says. "Who in Hell uses go metaphors for uh ... liking someone?"
Akira grits his teeth. By the heat in his face, he has a feeling he is beyond deep scarlet heading into maroon territory. "Well, I do." He mumbles.
Shindou's hand drops away from his mouth, and there's a trace of something wistful in the way he quirks his lips. "Figures. But didn't I say I sorta liked you too?"
"Not really."
"Tch. Fine. So I sorta like you too." Shindou says, and the quirk to his mouth disappears, leaving only a straight line. "Damn. I feel like we're back in grade school, but um, yeah. I sorta really like you. In that way."
"Oh." Akira rocks back slightly. His stomach is a bit jittery, and he knows his fingers are shaking, and any idea of plans, attacks, or replies -- igo related, metaphoric, or otherwise -- have disintegrated. Overall, he's not certain what he feels except that it isn't bad. "Oh."
Shindou sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. "And because of that, I can't screw this up. Okay? Some things aren't easy for me. Sai ... isn't easy for me."
Shindou scrubs his free hand across his face. "And it's worse right now; it hurts so much because everything happening brings up so many things like how he was, how we were, how hard it must have been for him in his life. There's just so much, and now I think -- now I know -- I should've been honest with you, for a long time now. Cause, damn, ... I get it. You see me. Wow. Oh, wow. Damn. That's so much."
The fingers clutching the fan slacken, and Shindou lets it drop gently to the blanket. He's shaking, and Akira knows it's not from being cold.
"Shindou." So many years of confronting his rival, years of chasing and following, coalesces in this one moment. Akira can feel his own hands tremble. "I know it's a lot."
He picks up the fan, spending a moment to run his fingers up the slats. The edges are rubbed smooth, and the paper is a little tattered, so he is careful when he opens it. Then, just as carefully, he closes the fan and places it into Shindou's open palm.
"I can wait."
Shindou's fingers curl around the fan. "Touya ...?"
"You're going to tell me, right? And you now know how I feel about ... other things. It won't change. But first, we have more pressing matters we must deal with. We can't afford to be distracted."
"Are you sure?" Shindou asks he shifts uncomfortably. "About both Sai and ...you know."
"Yes." Akira grits his teeth. "Don't make me say it again."
"But ..." Shindou shifts, almost squirming.
"Shindou." Akira closes his eyes, feeling exhaustion seep through him. His emotions have been jerked around like a toy duck on a string; it's too much to even try to sort out in one night. The automatic back-forth-shout-and-respond isn't getting them anywhere.
"I'm tired. I'm confused. And I have a roomful of cranky old people to deal with tomorrow morning. It'll hold. I'll make it hold until then."
Shindou gives him a long, assessing look. Then, a small smile slips across his face as he stands up and walks over to the light switch. He stands there, one hand on the wall, and takes several deep, bracing breaths before he turns off the light.
The futon dips as he returns and lays down. Instead of turning on his side though, Shindou lays flat on his back and threads his fingers through Akira's.
"I promise," he whispers, just as Akira is drifting off. "I'm gonna figure this thing out. 'Cause unlike you, I'm not that patient. And I've discovered I realllly hate cold showers."
The last thought Akira has, before he succumbs to sleep, is that he isn't fond of those, either.
----
The charity match would have been far more productive if the news of Shindou's forfeits hadn't dominated the entire day. Countless old men came up, deferential as always, but wanting to know why, and when, and how, and who did that young whippersnapper think he was, quitting like that?
Since one is always supposed to honor one's elders, Akira forces himself to be polite, but he has a feeling that if he has to politely counter one more Shindou related question, he is going to grab the nearest walker and start mowing his way towards the exit. Ironically, the incessant questions about Shindou are preventing him from finding any real answers.
So far, Akira hasn't had the opportunity to study the Tengen kifu as closely as he wants. He has finally obtained his own copies, but last night ... well, he tells himself that he has every right to have been distracted last night.
His conscience still twinges, however.
Perhaps sensing his growing frustration, his co-host, Ashiwara, calls the lunch break a little earlier than expected. Amidst the patter of canes and the squeak of the walkers, Akira finally finds peace behind the bleachers of the gym where the event is being held.
He wonders how Shindou is doing. The batteries on his cell phone have died completely; otherwise he'd call. Surely, though, if the Nihon Ki-in has hauled Shindou back to the institute, or if they arrested him -- surely someone would notify him.
"Touya-sensei?"
The sudden call of his name draws him out from his hiding space. Ashiwara is looking around frantically.
"Ashiwara-san?"
"Phone for you, in the main lobby."
"Thanks." Akira heads for the lobby at a brisk pace. His stomach tightens. He wonders if he has enough to make Shindou's bail as he hesitantly picks up the receiver.
"Akira-kun?" comes the deep timbre of his father's voice. The line crackles, static fuzzing up the edges of the words, but it's unmistakably him. Hands curling around the receiver, Touya suddenly realizes how much he has missed the sound.
"Father," he acknowledges, "how are you and mother?"
"We're fine. Korea is wonderful this time of year, and our hosts have been most gracious. I apologize that I've been out of touch these last few days." His father pauses. "Especially after I heard what's happening back in Japan with Shindou-kun. The phone line here isn't good either -- so we must talk fast."
"Shindou ... father, he didn't do it. And we're trying to prove he didn't but --"
"Akira-kun, I know," his father says firmly. "I've been looking into it as well."
Akira nods, even though his father cannot see. "Thank you."
"No need. Whomever is doing this is not only attacking Shindou-kun, after all. Though I have a feeling that the opponent -- well, in igo, at least they are the ones right in front of you. For them to hide in the shadows ..." There's a sharp edge to his father's tone, one that Akira recognizes.
Though he cannot see his father across the oceans, Touya can picture him; eyes narrowed, mouth set into a line as hard a steel. It brings a fierce grin to his own lips.
"You've been studying the kifu?" his father asks.
"Not as closely as I'd like," Akira admits. "Shindou has been looking, but he hasn't mentioned finding any answers."
"Hmm," his father's tone is not disapproving, but Akira feels as if he is three and has forgotten to clean the goban properly.
"And there have been other ... matters," Akira offers.
"I see," his father says. "Shindou-kun may be too close to the games to assess it properly, but you know more about Shindou than he himself knows. Perhaps even more than you, yourself can imagine. When you have the chance, make sure you study the fourth game. I'm not certain, but I feel it may be the key. Shindou's hand shines most strongly there."
"Father? What do you mean?"
"We'll discuss it further once you've studied it for yourself; I want you to draw your own conclusions. I'll call you again when I reach my destination."
There's a whistle in the background, and he hears the soft murmur of his mother's voice, though he cannot make out the exact words. "Ah, that's the train. We're headed north again. Your mother says hello, by the way. And reminds you not to eat out at the same place too much."
Akira twists the phone cord around his finger. "Ah. Well, I've been eating at home. Shindou likes to cook."
"Is that so?" the edge disappears from his father's voice, but in its place is something that makes Akira rather uncomfortable. "I see. Well, I expect you both to have this cheating business cleared up before I get back."
"Yes sir," Akira says.
"And tell Shindou-kun I'd like a game with him too." The train whistles again in the background. "I have a feeling we'll have much to talk about, especially regarding --" a sudden burst of static obscures the rest of his father's words. Akira thinks he hears the word cooking, but he isn't sure.
With one last hiss, the phone line abruptly cuts off. He spends a moment staring at the receiver. Finally, he replaces it back into its cradle.
"The fourth game," he repeats softly. His father's insights on igo -- as well as the people who play -- are invaluable, of course. "And cooking?!"
But there are times, rarely, that Akira wishes his father isn't so at good at reading other things beyond the board.
---
Akira returns to find that the house smells of miso and wisteria.
"I'm back," he says as he takes off his shoes.
"Took you long enough! Those old farts gave you too much of a challenge?" Shindou calls from the kitchen -- where Akira had predicted he would be.
Akira pauses, one shoe dangling from his fingers. Suddenly, his own home seems like an odd, foreign territory and Shindou not unlike some strange new native species.
What is Shindou now to him? A rival? Or ... Akira shoves the shoe into its correct spot.
"Made miso. And some unagi rice," Shindou, still unseen, calls from the kitchen
"It's the wrong season for unagi," Akira shoots back even as he rummages around in the shoe bin. His favorite pair of slippers are missing. Padding barefoot on the hallway, he sticks his head into the kitchen. Sure enough, Shindou is wearing them. "And you stole my slippers!"
"They're comfortable," Shindou says, shuffling his feet in an exaggerated motion. "And I don't care if it's the wrong season -- I wanted eel anyway."
"What happened to your trashbag?"
"Eel doesn't splatter as much," Shindou says offhandedly. "But yeah, we gotta do something about your refusal to own proper garments."
Akira narrows his eyes, "That better not be a remark about my -- well ..."
Shindou merely grins.
The eel tastes delicious and Shindou's right -- even if it's winter food, it just somehow hits the right warmth inside him. They exchange pleasantries about the day as they finish the meal and clean up the meal.
"Do you have any new theories?" Akira asks Shindou as they set the last of the dishes to dry.
"Yeah, but none of them feel right," Shindou says. His eyes seem to darken, and the lines around his mouth deepen. "The whole idea of an igo player in the shadows ... if someone wants me to chase them, shouldn't they make sure I know the rules of the hunt?"
"What if it's not you they're really after? Did Sai have any enemies?" Akira watches as Shindou flinches at the mention of the name. "Beyond those who would want to find him?"
"Not ... enemies. At least none that are..." Shindou stops. "Unless ... no. That can't be right either. Damn it all! I feel so useless."
"Hmm. Or maybe you're just too close to it all. At least, that's what my father thinks. He called, by the way. And he also mentions that the answer may be in the fourth game. Does that mean anything to you?"
Shindou's eyes grow thoughtful. "The fourth game, huh? The one I won." He taps his chin idly with his fingers. "That's an interesting thing for Touya-meijin to notice. But no, can't say it means anything beyond it's my only victory."
Akira pulls the kifu out from his pocket. He has spent the whole afternoon and the train ride home mentally playing and replaying each move. "It was a good game. Up to that mistake you made in the upper right kosumi ... tell me, was it an honest mistake? Or a trap?"
"Hey! Of course it was my brilliance ..."
At Akira's glare, Shindou recoils dramatically as if he's been stabbed physically. "Okay, okay it was an honest mistake. A rookie one. I thought Nara would crush me for sure."
Shindou leans backward, eyes thoughtful. "I mean, it was the worst reply I could've possibly given at the time, and it did throw me off my rhythm. But hey, it worked out for me in the end. Maybe it was a bad day for Nara too."
"No," Akira says, "It's not as much as that. You're often at your best when the situation is at its worst."
He runs his fingers, yet again, over the paper. The edges are already crumpled and worn along the lines he has folded.
"This mistake -- I would have immediately jumped on it, as would Ogata, or Kuwabara-sensei. And even I would have been ... surprised ... at your ability to come back. Nara does respond well and properly, but ..." Akira frowns. "Perhaps, because of your mistake, something messed up the caller's prediction of the game. Something he or she couldn't adapt to fast enough."
Akira traces the moves one by one as if picking up and placing the stones. "You were backed into the corner, and you made this leap of brilliance that really does shine, Shindou. And that makes the other kifu ..."
"Wait. You know something, don't you?" Shindou eyebrows draw together.
"Perhaps," Akira murmurs. What he does see though ...
"Touya?" Shindou asks.
"I don't know for certain. Just like you, parts of me say that it can't be," he replies.
"What?!"
"Actually, I guess the more correct thing to say," Akira says, "is I don't want it to be true."
"You don't want it to be true?" Shindou voice is a hush, and he has drawn closer to Akira. Their chairs are touching, as are their legs.
"Because ..." Akira pauses. "There are two ways we can do this. Someone is chasing you. That's what I think. And sooner or later, if we wait, he will reveal himself. However ... the alternative ..."
"We can take the fight to him." Shindou's eyes gleam, and he leans forward, intent. "I like that option a lot better."
"Yes, but ..." Akira pauses, waiting until Shindou gives him his full attention. "It won't be easy."
"Hey, nothing ever is."
"And it will involve some give and take on your part," Akira says, "About Sai ..."
Shindou's hands are white knuckled as they grip the edge of the table. "Yeah?"
"Are you sure, are you absolutely certain, that Sai is gone?"
Bowing his head, Shindou nods. His shoulders shake slightly, but when he looks up, his eyes are clear. "Yes. He is."
Akira steeples his fingers. Then he takes a deep breath. "Then I have a few calls to make. And then I'm going to have to do something you're not going to like, I won't be able to explain, and all I can ask is for you to trust me."
Shindou doesn't even pause. He snorts, grins a rather annoying grin, and says, "Stupid. What makes you think you even have to ask?"
-------
Four phone calls later, and Akira's ready. At his side, Shindou is a bundle of buzzing nerves; he wanders back and forth from the kitchen to the living room to the study back to the kitchen again.
Akira had forbidden him from listening in on the calls, and Shindou has taken that mandate with all of his usual grace.
"Damn, you're enjoying this aren't you?!" he had grumbled, but Akira had just held up a hand.
There is something almost fitting, he thinks, that he is the one with the secret this time. He isn't keeping quiet just to torture Shindou (all right -- he admits -- perhaps there is a bit of revenge involved) but the pieces are nearly in place, and Shindou is the key piece that has to be played just so.
He has a feeling though, that Shindou wouldn't have quite appreciated the analogy.
"Be patient," Akira had responded. Shindou had opened his mouth, closed it, and went into another circuit of Akira's home.
"We'll be ready for you then," Akira says to the cellphone, before snapping it shut. "Come on, I want to end this tonight."
Shindou runs both his hands through his hair. His eyes are wild, and there's a half grin on his face. Over the years, Shindou has developed the perfect exterior when playing a game. He exudes intensity, focus, and calm when on the goban.
For the first time, Akira feels he's seeing what his rival looked on the inside, when facing a challenge.
"I'd ask you where we're going," Shindou says as he follows Akira to the train station. "But --"
"You'll know, by the time we get there," Akira says confidently. Shindou is a bit dense, but he isn't stupid.
By the time the train pulls into the station, Shindou's eyes have narrowed, and his twitching fingers have balled into fists.
He makes a visible effort to calm himself, however, and in moments, he has settled back into his professional demeanor.
The night is warm and dry, and they walk at a comfortable distance. Akira doesn't know the way, exactly -- he only knows the numbers of an address -- but when he shows Shindou, his rival merely widens his eyes, then takes the lead.
The apartment complex isn't fancy; from a glance, Akira can tell it holds middle to lower income eel-style rooms. It's about right for a single young up-and-coming Japanese businessperson.
Shindou heads up the flight of stairs first, then pauses at the door as Akira holds up a hand.
"Play this as if you are going into a game with an unknown opponent," Akira says. "I am not certain of everything yet, and I need them to reveal the last bits of their plan."
"It'd be nice if I actually knew our plan, or exactly what's going on," Shindou grumbles, rolling his eyes in what could only be exasperation.
"Our plan is for you to ... be yourself," Akira says.
"What's THAT supposed to mean?!" Shindou demands. "You always say that I'm dense, have the manners of a walrus, and make stupid ass remarks."
"Exactly."
"HEY!"
"This isn't getting us anywhere, Shindou. Just ... trust me." Akira puts every bit of his conviction into his words.
For a moment Shindou raises an eyebrow. Then, something much like a soft smile touches his lips, though when Akira looks closer, it's gone.
"Whatever. Guess you're kinda better at the diplomacy thing anyway."
"What do you mean, kinda?!"
Shindou smirks and knocks on the door. They don't have to wait long.
"Hello, Nara-kun," says Shindou.
---
If they had been in some sort of drama, it would be time for the swelling of music. And perhaps some tight angled shots, and tense closeups, a break for the doorway, then shouting. Not that Akira actually had much time to watch that many dramas, but still, he had a sense for what would have been appropriate.
Instead, Nara Hideki merely licks his lips and squares his shoulders. One hand pushes up the thick eyeglasses he wears. "Um. We've been expecting you."
He gestures to the floor; two sets of slippers have been set out. Akira stoops slightly to remove his shoes; in the corner of his eye, he can see Shindou doing the same.
Yet, both of them make no motion to walk further into the apartment proper but remain standing in the neutral space of the genkan.
"Forgive us for imposing," Akira says to Nara-kun, because manners are important. "I assume Ogata-sensei is here already?"
Shindou's eyes dart around warily, and when he catches Akira's gaze, he mouths, "Ogata?!"
Akira shakes his head slightly. It is not yet time to give away any of his intentions.
His initial assessment of the apartment complex has proven correct. It is an eel shaped one, with three rooms running in a straight line from doorway to the hallway to the kitchen to living room. The sliding doors to the last room are shut, however. From the kitchen, a familiar stream of smoke drifts outward.
Moments later, Ogata himself strolls out. A lit cigarette rests in one hand. He would fit the part of a villain visually, but his manner doesn't quite match. He nods to Shindou, then to Akira.
Akira merely tilts his head in acknowledgment. The pieces are now set.
"I thought you'd be a little faster, actually," Nara says. "I figured the IP and download traces would finally be the key for you, Shindou-sensei. We made sure we went to Ugoigowigo ..."
"No," Akira says. "Actually, it was the fourth game that first clued us in."
"Really?" Nara bites his lip. "Oh. Well, I guess that one was an anomaly ..."
"Just get on with it, kid. They obviously know you're involved." Ogata flicks the cigarette. The ashes drift to the hardwood flooring of the hallway. Nara winces, but does not make any move to stop him.
Shindou, in turn, chooses to ignore Ogata for the moment. He focuses intently on Nara, which makes the other skitter a few steps backwards "Why did you do it?!"
"I didn't have a choice!" Nara insists, though he quiets when Ogata holds up a hand.
Shindou raises an eyebrow at the interaction, but otherwise, remains remarkably calm. "You rigged those games, didn't you? You chose to do it!"
"We ... um ..." Nara shifts, then itches his reddening ears. Despite what Nara has said about being prepared, he is obviously nervous and uncertain. Akira tilts his head, eyes narrowing.
Nara Hideki is no more than sixteen, at most. His head is overly big for his skinny neck, and his arms hang awkwardly at his sides. His eyes are large under the frames of his glasses. His thatch of unkempt black hair completes the image -- Nara looks remarkably like a gangly young stork just discovering its first wings in the wind.
For the first time, true rage flushes through Akira; yes, he has been angry that someone has accused Shindou falsely. But he has also known from the start that he would never accept anything less than a complete exoneration of Shindou. That outcome had never been in doubt.
But here ... here had been a chance of real talent, a new wave. Nara's games had been brilliant. However ...
"No one can play Shindou as you did during the Tengen Tournament," Akira says.
Shindou looks as if he wants to interrupt, but he quiets down when Akira grips his arm and squeezes once. "You've never played him before, but the style you used is very familiar. And not of one who has just merely studied Shindou's kifu."
Nara bites his lips hard, but he does not refute Akira's words. He merely stares at the ground, one hand ceaselessly fiddling with the earpieces of his eyeglasses.
Beside him, Ogata has tucked his free hand into a pocket and is leaning back, in a decidedly nonchalant manner. Strangely enough, there may have been ... pride ... in the way he is studying Akira and Shindou, although Akira cannot begin to fathom why.
"For example, in the fifth game, you used my pincer attack to draw out Shindou's tenuki. And third game, I see some of the tactics my father used against Sai. Moreover through it all, there's another hand .... anyway, it's very deeply mixed in -- most couldn't have seen it, especially when in play. I'm not surprised the Nihon Ki-in haven't picked up on it yet. However, what you did ... you couldn't have done unless you're extremely familiar with Shindou's style and what would be needed to draw him into certain patterns. As a tactic, it's beyond amazing," Akira continues. "Problem is, it's not your igo, is it? Those aren't your games."
Akira folds his arms together. "Shindou here would have recognized it, eventually, but I can vouch for how disconcerting it can be, when first encountering an unexpected strength far above your own. Sometimes, your excitement overwhelms everything."
"How did you do it?!" Shindou demands as he looms over the young man.
Nara gulps, his adam's apple bobbing. But his eyes, magnified through the thick glasses, are more surprised than afraid.
"Huh? What do you mean how?" Nara is nearly bouncing in his seat. Ogata is looking at him rather disapprovingly, but the young man is too excited to stop. "Same way you did, Shindou-sensei! With another SAI!"
Akira has dismissed the abscence of drama far too easily; Shindou's expression is worthy of a top soap opera star upon discovering the latest gut-dropping plot twist.
Akira is glad that he is standing next to Shindou; he is able to grab his rival and break his fall as Shindou staggers. His rival grabs the offered forearm with a grip so tight that it bruises. Shindou turns his head this way and that, searching Nara's apartment.
"Another fucking what?! Sai?!! He's here!?" Shindou's face drains of color and his breath comes in small, drastic pants. It's rather alarming; even Ogata starts up from his lounging position.
"Well, um, not here," hands fluttering, Nara edges toward the last room, which has been walled off by the sliding doors. He opens them. In the background, lighting the room with a blue eerie glow, is the answer.
"A ... computer," Akira murmurs.
Tsustui-san had corroborated Akira's initial guess over the phone, backing it up with his own theories. But facing the actual confirmation still sent a snap of shock along his spine.
By the way Shindou is sagging bonelessly, Akira knows he really should have warned him.
However, Ogata is now frowning as he stares at Shindou, and Nara is blinking rapidly as well.
They are both pros; or at least Ogata is one legitimately. Thus, Ogata knows how to read opponents. Akira needs him to see Shindou's reaction. To show him that --
Nara stutters, pushing up his glasses with a trembling hand. "W-why are you so surprised? You're the one that wrote the first SAI, right?"
"You ... it ... you think I wrote ..." Shindou pants, eyes wide. "You think Sai is a computer program?!"
"Yes! What other answer could there be? Over the years ... such perfect plays, but no presence outside of the net? What else could it be? We've been racing to catch up with you, Shindou-sensei!"
Perhaps it's a trick of the lenses he wears, but Nara's eyes seem to shimmer brightly, and his words are spoken with the fervor of a worshiper at the end of a pilgrimage. Akira wonders briefly -- is this how they appear to outsides, when in the middle of a good game?
"You have the holy grail!" Nara says, "A program that can adapt, can learn, can think for itself. The closest so far is Deep Blue but even that isn't a free thinking program nor can it handle igo. No one --"
"Whoa, whoooa. Wait. Deepu Blue?!" Shindou mumbles, seemingly to himself. "He's talking Japanese, right? But he's not making any sense! Uhhh ... I think I need to sit down. Now."
Shindou doesn't wait until Akira can fetch a seat from Nara's kitchen table. Shindou plops down right there in front of Nara's door.
"There are so many levels of wrong in this," Shindou mutters as he buries his hands in his hair. "How in the HELL did you come up with this shit?!"
"But ... but ..." Nara's hands gesture wildly, punctuating his every remark with a frantic swoop or flutter. "It's the only thing that fits. Even the name, with the English initials ... S.A.I. ... Strategical Artificial Intelligence."
"You have got to be kidding," Shindou moans. "I knew the theories were getting crazier, but not this crazy. This is beyond insane."
"Look, when you plug in the equations, of wins and patterns of wins -- and how the placement patterns evolved -- you can see where you took the old set programming and evolved it, and in the way it read its opponents -- the progress is not natural."
Nara's fingers twitch, as if he is tapping at some invisible keyboard or reaching for some stone. "You used the Shuusaku kifu as a starting point, didn't you? Programmed SAI to respond within a set and fixed parameter ... it's easy, since the Shuusaku kifu are a closed set of data -- anyone could program a limited pattern of moves that mimics his playing style. Starting off with a very ancient style would also be a good marker to track progress -- like electronic DNA -- as well as provide a signature so that the data could be traced. But it's what you did after that though ..."
Nara shudders, and his voice goes up slightly, words coming faster and faster. "It's that exponential growth afterwards, as the strategies adapted and evolved beyond its original programming. And what it showed ... when cross referenced to your actual witnessed games -- your program evolved beyond you, didn't it, Shindou-sensei? That's why there's a discrepancy in skill level between you and SAI at the time. You claim you're not SAI -- I believe you, Shindou-sensei. But SAI is a part of you, because you're the one who made SAI, and it owes its existence to you."
"Look, you got the whole 'Shindou is not SAI' part right." Shindou says each word slowly and carefully, as if talking to an overexcited toddler. "But I didn't make him! And if anyone broke their original programming its .... well ..." He trails off, hands clenching at his sides.
"But you're the one who unleashed SAI on the internet, aren't you? It has to be you. When we put together the reports of Sai, the timing of the sightings and of the time the login was on the net -- it points very strongly to one conclusion -- it indicates that the player was a student on summer break," Nara says.
"You got that theory from Waya, didn't you?" Shindou mumbles.
"Yes, but we still cross-correlated the data with the whereabouts all the known insei at the time and eliminated them one by one -- some of them had games during the same time SAI was on or else played SAI at some point or another. That didn't rule out school clubs, but we also ran as thorough of trace on the documented club activities as well. Furthermore, we know the location of the cyber-cafe where the games were played -- which was coincidentally near your known vicinity. And you, coincidentally, never played SAI, nor did you ever have a witnessed match at the same time as the SAI games. It all starts to add up, you know?"
"Still doesn't prove anything, beside you're stalkers and crazy!" Shindou insists. "Do you know how many times Waya's gone after me on this?!"
"Ah. Yes." Nara smiles, and his glasses flash. "We all know very well how you evade the issue. But what raised the real red flag in the wind -- so to speak -- is when we analyzed your past kifu alongside your current ones and overlaid them with the SAI strategies. It shows a strong knowledge of the SAI games and strategies. Your growth, although not quite as exponential, also shows the same patterns of rapid evolution. Yet, records also show you have never played SAI on the internet. The reason you never played against SAI on the internet is that you were the one who was signed on as SAI, Shindou-sensei, so that you could test your program. "
"Are you listening to me?! You do realize this isn't making much earth sense, don't you? Nerd sense, yes. Earth sense, no." Shindou's eyes are beginning to glaze over. "So slow the hell down or stop talking so I can process ... you think what again?! Sai and my patterns what?!"
Nara pushes his eyeglass up. His hands are trembling. "But ... but ... Ah. Let's return to Touya-sensei's original conjecture regarding playing patterns and igo styles. Your style shows a remarkable amount of similarity to the known SAI games. Yet, it's impossible for you to have the level of knowledge and development that you exhibit within your own strategies unless ... well -- you're the one who put in the original programming. Or in other words, Shindou-sensei, when we look in your current kifu now, we find the roots of SAI."
"Um," Shindou has the look of someone who has found himself in quicksand, and is still sinking. Akira wants to reach out a hand, but if he steps any closer, he will be standing on top of Shindou. And Shindou isn't exactly reaching out. "I think you're giving me a lot more credit than ..."
"I was the first to make the connection, that SAI may not have been human, as startling as that may be. But I'm correct, aren't I?" Nara says.
Akira has to admit; it's strange how Shindou blanches at the statement.
Nara takes this as some sort of encouragement. "I showed it to the others, and they agreed ... all of us, the world over, have been trying to break the code. But since all we had were cold trails ... and since you had officially disappeared from the internet and have remained firm in your denial ..."
Nara stops, and his expression falters, just the slightest bit. "We didn't mean you any harm, Shindou-sensei. You gotta believe that. But the trail was so cold, and you showed no sign of reemerging any time soon. It was sorta like some programming or igo version of Bobby Fischer or something -- well, perhaps minus his asshole-ness and the crazy, but plus the disappearance and genius ... do you know what that's like? To have the idea that a programmer of your caliber is out there?"
"Bobby Fishy what?!" Shindou closes his eyes. "I'm not a programmer, and I ... Ogata --- help me here. You can't think Sai REALLY is a fucking computer program! You ...you played him once!"
"Have I?" Ogata tilts his head. "I do not recall any real game. Only something once, when I was half drunk, that may have been a Sai game -- but the only person there was you. And that in itself is an impossibility, since you yourself say your are not Sai. Given all these impossibilities, who is to say that a computer program isn't a possibility? How else can a player exist but not exist?"
"But ...." Shindou protests.
"There is a lot about you that doesn't add up, Shindou-kun." Planting the old butt into a nearby potted plant, Ogata lights another cigarette. His face is half shadowed, half bright.
"If you can suddenly appear as a genius igo player seemingly without any prior form of training, what makes it so impossible for you to be a genius programmer too?"
Shindou stares at his hands. "I'm not. And I can't believe that you really think Sai is a computer program."
Ogata blows the smoke towards the ceiling. "Hmmmn. But all signs point to Sai being you, but not you."
"It has to be a computer program! Logically ..." Nara looks as if his knees are about to give out any moment. "It's the only answer. If you didn't write it, then you know who did, and you have a copy, right? And you're the one who tested it on the internet. It's why we all wrote the counter programming, so we could challenge --"
"Stop. Just stop it, all right?" Shindou takes a deep breath, then lets it out, slowly, through his teeth. "About the Tengen Tournament --"
"My intention was just to beat SAI program or challenge whoever wrote the program ... it has nothing to do your igo skills or your title!" Nara finally slides to his knees, and remains crouching, as if trying to hold back some undefinable energy.
"I know you're an excellent player -- one of the best. We know you are playing without the assistance of a computer program , Shindou-sensei. We know you weren't cheating. We're not challenging your superiority in igo. You launched SAI inside the net while honing your own skills outside. And your style is reminiscent of SAI, but it is different as well. We can see the earmarks of your hand in the program, but the program exists separate of your games. It's like the Deep Blue of the igo world!"
"Okay," Shindou pinches the bridge of his nose. "I know this is hard for you to believe, and I don't like admitting it, but just treat me like an idiot and explain everything. Starting with the Deepu Blue."
"Deep Blue was the program that the American company of IBM used to try to beat the best chess player in the world. The circumstances are suspect, though, but I won't go into that ... or into the programming, but like Deep Blue with Kasparov, we keyed SAI II to your games .... and we used Shuusaku's kifu as the basic premise of the sequence, just like you did with SAI, and built off of it. We also used all of SAI's known games. And ... your games, Touya-sensei. And Shindou-sensei's other known challengers. So the programming took us months, and all that was just to play you." Nara voice has stopped quavering; as he talks about his creation, Akira can see the light returning to his eyes.
"Deep Blue. Ugh, I still don't get it ... wait. Aoidai ... that's why you're called Aoidai -- Big Blue." Shindou mutters.
"Right. I thought you'd appreciate that -- that you'd know right away after you traced the IP of the downloads." Nara says. "And I thought for sure after the first game -- and we sweated buckets thinking you would find out the plan before we even started. We knew you had contact with people like Tsustui-san."
"Kid, I'm flattered you think so highly of me, but um ..." Shindou swipes his hands against his knees. He is sweating, slightly. "I had no clue I was playing a computer. I knew the plays were far stronger than I expected, and I couldn't pin your logic or style, but I figured you were just trying to throw me off balance."
"Oh ... um ..." at least Nara has the grace to look ashamed. "It wasn't entirely computer based, Shindou-sensei. My team and I would still have to reprogram every night -- we're talking many of the best minds in the entire field, all over the world! China, Korea, England ... everywhere! And we still didn't have a chance until we asked ... ah ..." Nara stops, "Well ...."
"You might as well say it. It's not like I'm ashamed. I assume that Akira-kun here already knows," Ogata says as Nara falters yet again. "Nara-kun asked me to help."
---
to be concluded