Hikaru No Go Fic: Desynchronization (WIP) Part XIV (2 of 2)

[ontogenesis]

Part 2

The next morning, Ogata took an early shower, then walked into the living room to find that Fujiwara was already awake and seated in front of the goban.

Fujiwara wasn't playing a game, though; the board was bare, and his eyes were closed. He was completely still, his face as serene and empty as a Buddha's. Shindou's ever-present fan was nestled between his motionless hands.

Meditating, Ogata realized. He'd done meditation himself before high-stakes games to relax his nerves, although he'd never practiced it regularly like Touya-sensei.

Ogata didn't like to socialize before his important matches either, even with well-wishers. He found it disruptive to his concentration. Perhaps Fujiwara felt the same way, so Ogata decided not to disturb him until it was time to leave. Fujiwara looked like he'd gotten ready anyway; he was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt with a pair of crisply ironed slacks, and his hair had been neatly pulled back from his face.

Fujiwara remained silent during the car ride, forgoing his usual chatter about the passing traffic. He simply stared ahead -- as if he weren't seeing anything or anyone other than Sensei before him, waiting.

Ogata felt a distinct pang of jealousy in his chest. He scowled at himself. Well, naturally Fujiwara was intent on the game. That... feeling was simply irritation because he wanted to be the one playing Fujiwara. Watching was a poor substitute for playing, even watching a game between two masters.

When they arrived at the Touyas', Ogata took Fujiwara around to the proper entranceway, rather than his regular shortcut through the carport sidedoor.

Fujiwara's face lit up as soon as they passed through the gates into the Touyas' large, traditional Japanese garden. “What a lovely garden!” he said.

“This garden is one of Touya-san's hobbies. Touya Akiko,” Ogata clarified. He'd known that Fujiwara would appreciate the garden. Even though Fujiwara's schedule had become quite cluttered because of his job and Shindou, he still found the time to frequent the condominium's garden, often choosing to read or study go there instead of in the apartment.

Fujiwara paused on the stone path to admire a grouping of bushes. “This is an exceptionally beautiful garden. Touya-san has put a lot of thought into it,” he said, turning and gesturing towards a large tree that grew close to the path.

Ogata tilted his head quizzically at the tree. It seemed healthy. It was a pine. He didn't see what made it more special than any other tree. Ogata liked tasteful gardens, but he'd never bothered to learn about them himself, figuring that if he ever got a hankering to buy a house, he'd just hire a landscape architect to design a garden for him. “It's obviously well-cared for, but how can you tell that it's exceptional? Is choosing pine trees for your garden a mark of refinement?”

Fujiwara pressed his lips together as if he were trying very hard not to laugh. “Not quite. What I meant was that Touya-san chose a variety of pine that doesn't put out branches close to the ground, so it wouldn't interfere with the pathway as it matured. You could just cut off all the low branches, but that leaves unsightly scars.”

Ogata thought he ought to be annoyed at being the source of Fujiwara's amusement, but it was nice to see Fujiwara smiling. “So, in addition to go, you're also a garden expert? Then enlighten me,” he said, arching his eyebrow in challenge.

“I'm hardly an expert! I've just visited a lot of gardens... I think,” Fujiwara said. He tapped the fan against his chin, then said, “Why do you think the path winds instead of taking a direct route to the doorway?”

That one was easy. “It's more aesthetic to put down a winding path than a straight one. A straight one is too artificial.”

Fujiwara nodded. “Whereas a winding one invokes nature, like a river. Also, the bends in the path provide the perfect opportunity to highlight particular plants or objects, like this lantern. Lanterns are popular because they symbolize contemplation and inspiration in Buddhism.”

“There's also one outside of the go study,” Ogata said. He wondered if Touya-sensei had appreciated that particular gesture of Akiko's.

Fujiwara smiled. “That's a good place for it. I've always thought that a beautiful garden was rather similar to a well-played game of go myself.”

Ogata mulled over the parallels, but they reached the front door before he could discuss them with Fujiwara.

Akiko was waiting in the entranceway. “Good morning, Ogata-san, Fujiwara-san. I heard Ogata-san's car pull up a few minutes ago, but I see you decided to take the long route today instead,” she said, looking pleased.

“Fujiwara-san is a garden enthusiast, so I knew he would appreciate yours. Touya-san, this is Fujiwara-san. Fujiwara-san, this is Touya-san.”

Fujiwara and Akiko bowed deeply to each other.

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” Akiko said with a warm smile. “Please, come in.”

“The pleasure is mine. Thank you for inviting me into your lovely home. It's nothing much, but please accept this,” Fujiwara said, proffering the small bouquet of sunflowers he'd purchased earlier on Ogata's advice.

Akiko's smile widened as she took the flowers. “Thank you, they look so cheerful. Sunflowers are my favorite: if I had a Western-style garden, I would definitely plant some.”

“Ogata-san told me you designed the garden,” Fujiwara said as they followed Akiko into the room used for entertaining guests.

Akiko pursed her lips in thought as she laid seat cushions out for them. “I believe I started planning it when Akira-kun was still just a baby. So almost eighteen years ago.”

Fujiwara's eyebrows raised in surprise. “Then you planted the trees when they were just saplings. It was surely a lot of work to grow them into the proper shapes. You must have a green thumb.”

“Oh my,” Akiko said, covering her mouth with a hand to conceal a pleased laugh. “I'm afraid I've misled you; I have relied on professional help at some points. I still have a lot to learn about gardening, but thank you for being gracious enough to overlook my flaws.”

“If there were any flaws, Touya-san, they were so minor that I couldn't perceive them. All I saw was an appealing garden,” Fujiwara said with a gentle smile.

Akiko's eyes sparkled. “Fujiwara-san is too kind,” she said, evidently unable to find any way to deflect such a compliment.

Ogata smirked appreciatively at Fujiwara's cleverly-phrased wording. Akiko and Fujiwara continued discussing gardening, and Ogata observed them attentively, more interested in the participants than in the particulars of their discussion. He was mildly surprised to realize that Akiko and Fujiwara had quite a few characteristics in common. Of course there was the politeness and formal speech, which some might call excessive, but Ogata knew it wasn't indicative of a haughty aloofness. Rather, Akiko and Fujiwara were simply showing their respect and consideration for others in the way they'd been raised -- through proper etiquette.

There was also something about the refinement of their mannerisms that suggested a very specific kind of background. Ogata knew that Akiko had come from an old, respected Tokyo family, and that as a child she had studied traditional arts like the koto and calligraphy, and had later furthered these studies at an exclusive women's college. From the very beginning, Ogata had suspected that Fujiwara had also come from such stock, but now that he could see Fujiwara alongside Akiko, it was glaringly obvious how similar they really were.

The only puzzle Ogata still couldn't figure out is why Fujiwara's family had failed to locate him, or why they apparently hadn't even deigned to try. You didn't pour all that education and care into a child and then just passively accept his disappearance as if he were unwanted.

“I would enjoy speaking about gardens with you at further length, but I think I ought to let Touya-san know you've arrived,” Akiko said after she and Fujiwara had been chatting for a few minutes. “I doubt he would appreciate my monopolizing your company when you have a game arranged,” she said, rising from her cushion, her voice colored with a wry note that suggested a certain bemusement with her husband's go obsession.

“You made a good impression on her,” Ogata said after Akiko had left the room.

Fujiwara smiled. “She's a very kind lady. It's obvious that Akira takes after her in many ways.”

“In some ways, yes. But he's also very much Touya-sensei's son,” Ogata said. Akira had inherited his mother's beauty and sensitivity, and had soaked up her instruction in propriety like a sponge. But Akira lacked Akiko's natural ease with people, and this social awkwardness was further exacerbated because he had inherited every single ounce of his father's obsessive intensity and pride. Not that Ogata was complaining. Akira was one of the most fascinating people Ogata knew, and certainly one of the most entertaining to needle.

Akiko returned then. “Would you come this way, please? Kouyou-san is waiting for you in his study,” she said, an apologetic set to her shoulders, but Ogata didn't find anything amiss about his teacher's behavior - it was only natural that Touya-sensei wanted his first meeting with s a i to take place in the go study.

They followed Akiko down the corridor past Akira's bedroom, the guest room, and one of the bathrooms. Akiko stopped outside the study. “Please have a good game,” she said with a slight bow, and slid the door open for them.

Ogata squinted immediately upon entering the study, temporarily blinded by the flood of sunlight. All the windows on the opposite wall had been uncovered, their shouji screens pushed back far in order to take advantage of the fine weather. Touya-sensei sat in front of his favorite goban in his usual crossed-arm stance, his attention still fixed on the board as if he hadn't heard them enter the room. Extra cushions had already been set out - one across from Sensei, of course - and one on the side, directly between the two players.

That one was for him.

Then Ogata realized Fujiwara hadn't stepped forward yet, his impeccable manners apparently failing him for once. Instead, Fujiwara was standing hesitantly just inside the doorway, hands stiff by his sides as he stared at Sensei's back, as if he couldn't quite believe this was finally happening. Ogata felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. He didn't want Fujiwara to look at someone else like that, awestruck as if he were meeting an idol. Not even if that someone else was Ogata's sensei.

But the game was more important, the game Ogata was going to watch himself in person.

Nothing was more important than that, Ogata reminded himself, steeling his resolve. He reached out, touching Fujiwara on the elbow. Fujiwara blinked at the contact, but then he smiled, and allowed Ogata to guide him forward, hand still cupping his elbow.

Touya-sensei rose to his feet as they approached, turning around to face them. His expression was inscrutable as usual, but Ogata suspected that he'd been aware of their presence the entire time. The older man had always been uncannily perceptive.

“Sensei, this is Fujiwara Sai. Fujiwara-san, this is my teacher, Touya Kouyou,” Ogata said, releasing Fujiwara's arm unobtrusively, but he knew that Sensei could have hardly failed to notice. Ogata could not bring himself to particularly care, though.

“I'm honored to meet you. Please treat me kindly,” Fujiwara said, bowing gracefully.

“And I also.” Touya-sensei returned the bow with gravity. “I hope you have been doing well,” he said, looking Fujiwara over intently from head to toe, his brows furrowed as if he half-expected to see some physical manifestation of the amnesia.

“Yes, thank you. I'm getting better every day. I apologize for worrying you,” Fujiwara said, dipping his head shyly.

“I understand you are continuing to receive medical care?”

“Yes, I am,” Fujiwara replied, his cheeks flushing bright red, but Touya-sensei simply nodded in apparent satisfaction, as if he hadn't registered Fujiwara's embarrassment.

Ogata resisted the urge to wince on Fujiwara's behalf. He'd already provided Touya-sensei with a fairly thorough report on Fujiwara's health over the phone (with Fujiwara's permission), but Ogata knew his teacher far too well to be surprised at his inspection. Even though Touya-sensei had started using e-mail and the Internet with regularity, he still preferred to confirm things with his own eyes, as if he didn't quite accept things as real until he did.

“Please, sit,” Touya-sensei said, gesturing towards the cushions.

Fujiwara took the cushion opposite of where Touya-sensei had been sitting, and Ogata took the side cushion, noticing a single black stone resting on the goban. Apparently Sensei hadn't gotten very far in recreating whatever game he'd been playing, which wasn't unusual: he was prone to pausing for long intervals as he replayed games that intrigued him. Yet it was unusual that he would put the white goke across the goban from where he was sitting, rather than keeping it next to his side alongside the black goke.

Black at the 16-16 star. A sudden epiphany struck Ogata. That had been Sensei's first move against s a i. That Sensei had left the black stone on the board, and the white goke where Fujiwara would be sitting -- was sitting - was no mere coincidence.

Fujiwara's eyebrows raised in surprised recognition, but Touya-sensei provided no explanation, and made no movement to retrieve the black stone or white goke. He simply sat, arms tucked into his haori sleeves, with an air of expectancy.

Ogata saw Fujiwara curl his fingers around his fan, his eyes flickering between the stone and Touya-sensei as if he were unsure of what was expected of him.

Touya-sensei, Ogata knew, was habitually silent around the goban, believing that it was better to allow other players to voice their own questions and posit theories without being overly influenced by his own ideas. He was particularly inclined to be quiet around players who intrigued him, because he wished to encourage them to speak.

But for Fujiwara, conversation was a validation, a way to show people that he liked them, and vice versa. Fujiwara was exactly the type to interpret Touya-sensei's continued silence as disapproval rather than respect, especially since he had been anxious about his memory of that older, jealous player.

Ogata was about to break the silence when Touya-sensei spoke:

“I've been waiting.”

Fujiwara's mouth fell open a little, and he stared openly at Touya-sensei, bashfulness forgotten. They locked eyes, and Ogata saw an understanding pass between them.

“I've been waiting, too. For a very long time,” Fujiwara said. His tone was soft, but his expression was as sharp and dangerous as Ogata had ever seen it across the board.

Touya-sensei said nothing, but there was a smile in his eyes as he glanced at the white goke.

Fujiwara arched an eyebrow. Then, with a sudden fluid movement, he dipped into his goke, and laid a stone at the 14-16 star.

The exact same move White had made during the first game. Entranced, Ogata watched as Touya-sensei replayed his second move, and Fujiwara again answered with his previous play.

They hadn't done nigiri. They hadn't bowed to each other - and as far as Ogata could tell, they hadn't even had an actual discussion about replaying their only game - but they were racing through the opening with the level of vehemence usually reserved for title matches. Ogata was far too intrigued to bother feeling shocked at the breach of protocol.

At the seventeenth hand, however, Touya-sensei did not play at 16-3 as before. Instead, he laid a stone at 15-8, a connection to his earlier 16-8 stone.

Fujiwara's eyes widened, stilling his right hand beside his goke.

Of course, Fujiwara had noticed Touya-sensei's deviation immediately. Ogata shifted on his cushion eagerly, wondering what move Fujiwara would choose to respond with, and wondering how many times Fujiwara had replayed the game in his head. Ogata had lost count of the number of times he'd reviewed the game himself, and he had only been an observer.

Fujiwara placed a stone at 17-8 - a direct attempt to limit Touya-sensei's expansion in that quadrant.

A distinct challenge.

Touya-sensei wasted no time answering the challenge, playing at 17-9 to put a ceiling on White's upward mobility.

Fujiwara snapped down a stone at 15-7, blocking Black from forming connections at the bottom.

Touya-sensei responded with an extension at 14-8, the faintest hint of a smile ghosting across his lips, and Ogata realized that his teacher must have been positively spoiling for a good fight. This early in the game, there were plenty of strategic points to claim elsewhere on the board, but obviously neither Fujiwara nor Touya-sensei wanted to give each other a psychological victory by temporarily retreating.

The clash continued for a few more hands, then Black started a boundary battle around the right center star. That battle quickly spread to the edges of the top center, next the lower right, Black and White hot on each other's heels. Neither player could place a hand that remained unchallenged for long.

As the game unfolded, Ogata found himself marveling at the sheer energy he could feel radiating off the board. A strong fighting spirit, of course, was essential to victory at this level. You couldn't win against a strong opponent if you doubted yourself, if he wanted the win more than you did - and both Touya-sensei and Fujiwara possessed incredibly powerful wills. Yet the game was already past its middle stages, and their play was only growing more intense as they played.

In the later stages, play usually became more conservative and restrained because each new hand was more critical, and mistakes more costly. Now a calculated risk here and there was necessary, especially if one player was distinctly behind and wanted to close the gap before yose. But in this game, any differences in Black and White's odds were so razor-thin that such risks seemed excessive, especially since any error would be noticed and exploited.

The battle grew intense in the upper right quadrant. Fujiwara and Touya-sensei played tightly, their stones shadowing one another as they continued to react to each other's hands almost instantly.

In half-disbelief, Ogata tugged off his glasses to rub at his eyes. The speed they were responding with meant they were both relying very heavily on instinct, but Ogata could see no weaknesses or sloppiness in their play. On the contrary, the patterns were intricate and precise. The reading was deep: they were playing as if they could discern each other's intentions.

Like they'd been playing each other for years.

Like rivals.

Rivals. With a grimace, Ogata replaced his glasses. That description was a bit too pedestrian for Ogata's tastes; it recalled memories of Akira-kun and Shindou chasing each other around with flushed cheeks, uttering grandiose statements that only a middle school student could deliver with complete sincerity. (Ogata had provided fuel for Shindou and Akira's “rivalry” simply because it had been useful to motivate Akira -- and it had been highly amusing.) Ogata was a professional: he had opponents, not “rivals.” There were no cosmic forces at work; it was simply that certain players were more talented than others, and thus tended to meet each other more frequently across the board as they competed for scarce titles.

Of course, a certain understanding and rapport sometimes developed between players who were equally-matched and had played together frequently. Ogata could often read Fujiwara and Touya-sensei well because he'd played hundreds of games with Fujiwara, and thousands with Touya-sensei. His understanding of their go had developed over time, in conjunction with their personal relationships.

Perhaps that was why the term “rival” was rankling him regarding Touya-sensei and Fujiwara. Ogata knew that if he'd been watching this game as an outsider - unconnected to either man - he would have guessed that Fujiwara and Touya-sensei were opponents with a long history together. Not players who'd had the luxury of only one previous match, and “an unofficial Internet match” at that.

With a begrudging admiration, Ogata surveyed the patterns before him. The moves were exquisite, for all the brutal intent behind them, executed with perfect timing and taste.

That game he'd played yesterday with Touya-sensei had been beautiful, too. Ogata knew it was the best game he'd ever shared with his teacher. But that game was the result of years of striving and struggle, one gem amongst many, many games that were barely worth mentioning.

Sensei and Fujiwara had just met. Somehow, it seemed unfair that they could produce such a beautiful game together already. As if they had been destined to be opponents.

Unfair? Destiny?, Ogata thought, incredulous at himself for allowing his attention to be distracted from the game with such ridiculous thoughts. He was a professional. His job was to judge this game on its technical merits, and to use his ability as a detached third party to provide an outside perspective on the game. His inane emotions had no place in such a situation.

Ogata snapped his focus back to the board. Black had just played an ogeima, and now White was preparing a cut, a challenging move to play successfully, considering Black's surrounding stones.

On the 113th hand, Black cut into the unclaimed center of the board.

A shiver of anticipation raced down Ogata's spine as he processed the consequences of the move. Up until this point, the two players had avoided the center in favor of playing along the boundaries. Touya-sensei's move into the center was bold - but not unnecessarily so. Black already had stones scattered along the inside edges in all quadrants, whereas White was on the outer edges. If Black could keep White sealed out long enough to strengthen its lines, then Black could seize the majority of the center territory.

The play was brilliant, the sort that made Ogata marvel at Touya-sensei's cunning and wonder why he hadn't seen it coming earlier. In retrospect, it was obvious that Touya-sensei had been planning for this move almost the entire game, subtly aligning his black stones into position while answering other, unrelated plays. To play on two levels like that, and so convincingly - that was indeed the mark of a master. Fujiwara had done the same to Ogata on more than one occasion.

But Fujiwara was staring at the board, his face obscured behind his fan.

He hadn't seen it coming, either.

Ogata watched as Fujiwara studied the stones for a long, long time. His expression was like a mask, but the lines in his neck had stiffened. It was rare for Fujiwara to hesitate so long. Even at critical moments, he never deliberated excessively, choosing instead to play with a certain rhythm and fluidity. That Fujiwara was pausing for so long meant that Touya-sensei had indeed boxed him into a corner.

Ogata pressed his knuckles to his chin, wondering what strategy he would employ in Fujiwara's shoes. It seemed the best option left to Fujiwara was to cut his losses and cede that territory to Touya-sensei, and focus his moves on the left quadrant, where White had more influence. But that wouldn't be enough to win the game.

Abruptly, Fujiwara looked up at Touya-sensei, staring sharply as if he were trying to scry Touya-sensei's face for hidden intentions.

Touya-sensei met Fujiwara's gaze with an expression like a monolith, his arms crossed. He was overwhelming in his stillness, deafening in that profound silence that radiated from his very being.

Ogata had faced his teacher often enough to be acutely aware of how heavily that presence could weigh on one's mind, especially during a critical moment, when that silent presence seemed to increase in intensity, as if it were reflecting its master's desire to win.

Ogata found himself slowing his breath, caught up in the drama as the two stared each other down. More than one well-matched opponent had lost to Touya-sensei simply due to becoming unnerved at a juncture when every edge of mental sharpness was demanded.

In talent and skill, Fujiwara was as equally gifted as Touya-sensei, probably more, considering his youth. But Touya-sensei's lined, weathered face was a physical testament to the countless battles he'd waged across the goban, battles he'd been losing and winning before Fujiwara was even born. He possessed a serenity and a rock-solid confidence that came only with experience. Fujiwara had beaten Touya-sensei before, but that game had been fought over the Internet, a comparatively cool, impersonal environment in which talent and skill counted for everything, status and presence for little.

In person, Sensei might have the advantage -- if he could get under Fujiwara's skin. Even a slight lapse in Fujiwara's judgment could give Touya-sensei the needed points to win. Touya-sensei also had the advantage of having the stronger position; the move he'd played was enough to make almost any opponent lose the will to fight. It seemed like the perfect move.

Without breaking the gaze, Fujiwara reached for his goke. He placed a stone effortlessly, not even glancing at the goban briefly.

Ogata's pulse quickened. White had just effectively cut Black off from the upper quadrants. If Black tried to interfere, it would be pincered between White on top and the bottom. Black still had strength in the center, but White had halved its potential territory.

If Sensei had played the perfect move, then Fujiwara had played the perfect response.

Instinctively, Ogata glanced at Touya-sensei.

Touya-sensei's eyes were wide open, his face slack. The expression was so strange on his teacher that it took Ogata a moment to register that Touya-sensei was actually shocked. But Touya-sensei wasn't even looking at the goban. He was still looking at Fujiwara, leaning back slightly as if he'd been knocked off his perfect balance.

Ogata followed Touya-sensei's gaze back to Fujiwara, and then he understood. It wasn't the move at all.

Fujiwara was staring at Touya-sensei with those disturbingly ancient eyes, those eyes that blazed with a single-minded focus as if blinded to all but the goban and their opponent. I've been waiting, too. For a very long time, Fujiwara had said. But his eyes said that he'd been playing for an eternity and that it was the only thing that really mattered, and in a sudden rush of empathy, Ogata could sense how much Fujiwara wanted this, how much he needed it, existed for it, and that he was never ever ever going to stop --

Slowly, Ogata drew a slow breath of air, then exhaled, willing calmness to his mind. It had been a long time since that incongruous facet of Fujiwara's personality had surfaced, since Ogata had last faced the intensity of that desire across the goban. Apparently, even though Ogata was not Fujiwara's opponent today, he was not immune to the influence -- to the sheer pull -- of Fujiwara's will.

Touya-sensei thinned his lips in resolve, and he sent Fujiwara a grave, challenging look before placing his answer deftly, as if he'd regained his stoic composure.

But Ogata noticed that Touya-sensei's right hand was grasping his left arm tightly, and he knew that his teacher had been shaken by what he'd seen. Had Sensei also sensed Fujiwara's overwhelming desire?

Regardless, the rapid pace of the game soon resumed as Black and White waged their savage battle for the center. Ogata found himself marveling at White's ruthless efficiency as it cut into Black's gains hand after hand, limiting its territory. But Black was also impressive in its clever evasions, muffling the effectiveness of White's attacks.

The battle in the center continued until the middle had almost been completely littered with tiny circles of black stones hemmed in by white. Then the battle around the goban's boundaries reignited, both players making a grab for as much unclaimed territory as possible, no matter how small.

Ogata did some quick mental calculations as the game passed the two-hundred hand mark. The difference between Black and White was extremely close - even counting komi, not more than a moku or two. With such a narrow gap, the game would continue until the very end.

At move 257, Black laid the final hand at 1-6. There were no more moves to be placed.

There was a brief pause as the players committed the board to memory.

A game worth remembering, Ogata thought, awed by the unusual patterns of Black and White that spiraled across almost every centimeter of the board. There was very little in the game that Ogata could have predicted from either man, and that was invigorating and exciting. Nothing was worse in go than complacency and stagnation.

Sensei and Fujiwara began to silently shift their stones around as they counted territory, but Ogata knew they were merely confirming what they had already calculated. With komi, Black had won by a mere half a moku. It was the exact reverse of the first game - well, what the result would have been if Sensei had not chosen to resign.

“Makemashita,” Fujiwara said when they'd finished counting, bowing to Sensei, his tone gracious and untainted with disappointment. Ogata wasn't disappointed either: that Fujiwara had managed to bring the game to such a close finish -- despite Touya-sensei's powerful, surprising move -- was a tribute to Fujiwara's genius.

“It was a pleasure to finally play you in person,” Touya-sensei replied, his voice resonating with warmth and pride. His posture was as perfect as always - shoulders squared, back straight - although Ogata knew that Touya-sensei had to be weary after the draining exchange. He'd been playing very intense go for almost two hours, and holding seiza grew more difficult as one's body aged.

A beatific smile spread across Fujiwara's face. “I feel the same. I enjoyed playing you over the Internet, of course, but there are some aspects of go's beauty that must be experienced in person.”

Sensei nodded, although Ogata noticed the long, measured look he was giving Fujiwara.

There was no hint of that presence that Fujiwara had exhibited for the last half of the game. Just Fujiwara, his eyes young and bright with exhilaration. He was rocking back and forth a little, probably restraining the urge to bounce on his cushion because he was a guest (he had no qualms about bouncing in Ogata's apartment).

Ogata had suspected before that Fujiwara was unaware of his... other side... but now Ogata was certain of it. Fujiwara didn't even realize that he'd unsettled both of them. But there was nothing to be gained from mentioning it to Fujiwara; likely, it was only some weird side effect from his brain injury combined with his passion for go. Fujiwara would fret uselessly, and he had more important issues to deal with. Besides, it was patently ridiculous to think that Fujiwara was any older than his appearance - and the doctor - had suggested. That Fujiwara's go felt so old and polished was due to his natural talent and remarkable ability to absorb various playing styles. Ogata had already known all this intellectually; he'd merely let his imagination get away from him during the heat of the game.

They finished clearing the goban and put it to the side, and now Touya-sensei was reaching for a teapot that Ogata hadn't noticed earlier - Akiko must have brought it in.

Fujiwara praised the green tea, identifying it as gyokuro grade. Touya-sensei seemed pleased, and started a small discussion about which regions grew the best teas. Fujiwara insisted that Uji's climate and rainfall was superior for tea growing, which Ogata found interesting. Fujiwara had never demonstrated knowledge of any other area besides Tokyo, so Ogata had assumed that Fujiwara had probably been born and raised in Tokyo. Uji was near Kyoto, however, and several hours away even by the Shinkansen. Ogata made a mental note to question Fujiwara about it later.

Excepting that revelation, however, the tea discussion was unsurprisingly boring. Ogata preferred beer to tea, and would have preferred to be discussing the game to discussing rainfall averages. But perhaps Touya-sensei and Fujiwara simply wanted to engage in small talk before the real discussion; it was their first meeting, after all. Compared to his initial behavior, Fujiwara was relaxed now, smiling freely at both of them, and looking around the room with open interest.

The go study had always been Touya-sensei's domain, and it reflected his tastes: simple and bare, except for a single wall scroll hanging in the alcove. The most interesting thing about the room was the garden outside. As a boy, Ogata had found the room boring, but he'd come to realize that a more elaborately decorated room would distract weaker students from their studies.

Fujiwara's gaze slid over the wall scroll before alighting on a glass case below it. “Oh, it looks like me!” Fujiwara exclaimed, then flushed, covering his mouth with his sleeve.

Ogata squinted: inside was a collector's doll. The doll was clad in white robes and a long black hat. Ogata arched an eyebrow in surprise, realizing it was dressed like a Heian nobleman. Odd how he'd never noticed the doll before. “Fujiwara-san was wearing an outfit like that when I fou-when we first met,” Ogata explained, feeling vaguely guilty that he hadn't mentioned that detail to his teacher over the phone. It hadn't seemed relevant, since Ogata knew Fujiwara had no connections to acting.

Touya-sensei nodded calmly, as if wandering around in an ancient costume was not at all strange behavior. “I'd like to see it sometime,” he said to Fujiwara.

“Of course, although please understand that it's not in the best condition. I lost my eboshi, and the silk stained a little.” Fujiwara tilted his head, taking in Touya-sensei's hakama and haori as if he'd just realized noticed the traditional dress. “Are you also a historical re-enacter?”

The skin around Touya-sensei's eyes crinkled in amusement, although he did not smile. “Not quite, although part of my reason for wearing this clothing is to remind myself of go's past - and my connection to it. This clothing is from the Edo period.” At Fujiwara's blank look, Touya-sensei continued: “Most consider it to be the Golden Age of Go in Japan. Your own playing style is heavily influenced by a player from that time - Honinbou Shuusaku.”

“Honinbou Shuusaku?” Fujiwara echoed, turning the name over slowly in his mouth.

“Yes. Although perhaps it is an understatement to say that your style is merely influenced by Shuusaku.”

Ogata recognized that tone: this was no longer casual small talk. A vague recollection stirred in Ogata's memory - some study session discussion about a fitting opponent for Sensei, a fantasy about Shuusaku playing modern joseki. Ogata tensed. Where exactly what his teacher going with this?

“What do you mean?” Fujiwara said.

Touya-sensei met Fujiwara's eyes evenly. “When we played today, I saw a little of Shindou-kun in your style. I also saw Ogata-kun's influence. No doubt, the more we play together, I will see my influence in your style as well - and yours in mine. But the essence of your go remains Shuusaku.”

“I think someone had mentioned this to me before. I must have studied him a lot, before my amnesia,” Fujiwara said agreeably.

Touya-sensei shook his head as if Fujiwara were missing the point entirely. “A student can only absorb so much from his teacher, or his texts, no matter how eager or talented the student. Your play, your experience... embody Shuusaku.”

Embody? Touya-sensei wasn't seriously suggesting that Fujiwara was somehow channeling Shuusaku? Granted, possession would explain Fujiwara's particular style and that strange presence rather nicely, except for the fact that it was completely absurd.

“I don't understand,” Fujiwara said quietly, his eyes turning inward.

Fujiwara was withdrawing. Irritation flared in Ogata. Sensei was upsetting Fujiwara with his odd line of questioning, and to no avail. “Sensei, I think that Fujiwara-san doesn't remember enough to answer your questions accurately,” Ogata said, managing a respectful tone, hoping that his teacher would pick up on his concern. “He seems--”

“I didn't call him Shuusaku... I called him Torajirou, because he was a friend of mine,” Fujiwara said fondly, as if recalling a pleasant dream.

Ogata winced. Touya-sensei had confused Fujiwara completely. Ogata turned to Fujiwara in an effort to ameliorate the situation. “Maybe you feel that way because his works were very influential to you, so it's like he was your friend, teaching you?” he asked gently.

Fujiwara shook his head. “No, Torajirou is like Hikaru to me,” he stated with absolute conviction.

Honinbou Shuusaku was a long-dead go icon, a Go Saint. Hikaru was Fujiwara's student, and a brat. The similarities between Hikaru and Shuusaku were non-existent, except on the most superficial level: they were both go players, and Fujiwara had strong feelings about both of them. Obviously, Fujiwara was getting them mixed up in his mind. Ogata knew Fujiwara too well to correct him right now, though, not when Fujiwara had started pressing his lips together like that.

“Who is Shindou-kun to you?” Touya-sensei said.

Ogata relaxed. This was safer-saner-- territory, as Shindou was definitely alive.

“He was my friend when I couldn't be around other people. I taught him to play go, and he placed my stones for me,” Fujiwara said, his expression tender.

Touya-sensei smiled softly. “A kind boy. He visited me in the hospital. Do you remember his Shin Shodan match?”

“Yes, it was awful and wonderful at the same time. That fifteen-stone handicap,” Fujiwara said with a sigh. Then he blinked hard, as if doing a double take. “We... we've only played once before today, right?”

Touya-sensei's smile sharpened, but he did not answer.

* * *

“Did I do something wrong?” Fujiwara ventured cautiously.

Ogata glanced at him in the passenger's side seat. Fujiwara's face was guileless as ever. Clueless. Ogata returned his attention to the road. “No, I just have a lot to think about.” Like how open and frank Fujiwara had been with Touya-sensei. True, Ogata had reassured Fujiwara that his teacher was a trustworthy person, but that was so that Fujiwara could relax and enjoy a proper match - not become instant best friends with his teacher. Fujiwara had shared things with Touya-sensei that he hadn't even told Ogata yet, like Shindou placing his stones for him. Fujiwara had been vague about the circumstances under which he'd met Shindou - only stating something about how he couldn't be around people because of his “condition,” which Ogata had thought meant that Fujiwara's immune system had been compromised, or that he'd had no stamina. But if Fujiwara had even been too weak to place his own stones, he'd been far more gravely ill than Ogata realized.

Why hadn't Fujiwara told him that? And then there was that weird conversation about Shuusaku - Torajirou, as Fujiwara referred to him - and non-existent Shin Shodan handicaps, and embodiments. Ogata had felt as if the two of them were holding a conversation on a completely different plane, a conversation that made sense to only them. At least that conversation had been mercifully short, and they'd started discussing the game after that.

“Thank you for taking me to the game.”

“You're welcome.” It was difficult, Ogata thought, to maintain irritation with a man who was so sincere. “You certainly got along well with him.”

Fujiwara shifted in his seat, and Ogata knew he was blushing. “After I played him, I knew that I could trust him.”

Apparently, Touya-sensei had felt the same way about Fujiwara. Touya-sensei had been studying Zen thought and the metaphysical for as long as Ogata had known him, but it was rare for him to discuss it, and he only did so with old friends. Personally, Ogata had little interest in that particular hobby of his teacher's, although the meditation could be useful for clearing one's mind. But Ogata did find it inappropriate that Touya-sensei had brought up such a complex topic to Fujiwara when Touya-sensei was fully aware of Fujiwara's condition, especially since Fujiwara clearly idolized Touya-sensei. Fujiwara still didn't have the capacity required to judge and weigh the merits of such ideas.

“Listen, regarding Touya-sensei's ideas, don't read too much into it. Sensei is a very deep thinker, and he can be difficult to understand,” Ogata said delicately.

Fujiwara only hummed noncommittally, but Ogata knew he should let the matter drop. If Fujiwara wanted to believe that he had some mysterious connection to Shuusaku, then Ogata could hardly convince him otherwise. Fujiwara would come to realize on his own that it was silly, and that he had enough real connections to real people that he didn't need to have imaginary ones.

After a few minutes of silence, Fujiwara spoke. “Are you busy later today?”

“No, why?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to play a game,” Fujiwara said quietly.

“Are you sure?” Ogata asked casually, although his heart had started to hammer in his ribcage. It had been weeks since their last game.

“I've missed playing you. I saw some of your moves when Touya-sensei was playing me, and it made me a little jealous because I knew that he had just played you yesterday,” Fujiwara admitted.

Fujiwara was the one who had been jealous? Ogata wanted to laugh. “I would be happy to play you, then,” he said instead.

Strangeness aside, things were definitely looking up.

* * *

Author's Notes:
As always, comments and criticism of any length are welcomed! I don't get paid, except in attention. ^_~

My, it's been far too long since the last chapter. I've been preoccupied with moving and restarting life here in America. But hey, look how long this chapter is! It was particularly hard for me to write, since I portrayed two go games in it. Despite my efforts, I do not understand go; I have horrible spatial logic. So if any of you actually play go, please do not laugh within my hearing distance. I do not have any go games planned for the remaining chapters.

I also really wanted this chapter to be fulfilling - the number of people asking me about the Touya Kouyou v. Sai match was second only to the number of people asking about Sai's reunion with Hikaru. It was difficult for me to decide who would be the loser in the rematch (and my betas were split on this!), but I chose Sai because I wanted to show that Touya Kouyou is indeed a worthy rival for Sai - Sai wouldn't be so obsessed with someone who couldn't beat him every now and then. Also, I think Sai is more vulnerable to defeat since he is human again (relatively vulnerable, haha.)

Internet Game:

My Friday Night Files. I used this website to find out information about the 2nd Sai v. Meijin game (the Internet match).

Yumi Hotta changed one of the moves, the one that Hikaru comments on, and Kouyou resigns, whereas in the real game it was played to the finish. Rin Kaiho = Touya Kouyou, Yoda Norimoto = Sai. Sai wins by resignation; in the real game, Norimoto wins by half a moku.

Rin Kaiho (Black) vs Yoda Norimoto from the 22nd (Asahi) Meijin League played in May 1997. W+0.5. See it here.

My Imaginary Game: The game that I referenced for this chapter -- same opponents, different outcome. Rin Kaiho = Touyou Kouyou, Yoda Norimoto = Sai. Touya wins by half a moku.

54th Japanese Oza, preliminary 2005-12-01: Rin Kaiho 9p (Black) vs. Yoda Norimoto 9p (White) B+0.5 Very pretty, ne? (It's fun to use the arrows to watch the flow of the stones. I do not understand go -- sweatdrops -- but I can appreciate some of the aesthetic beauty nonetheless.)

Manga Research: I relied pretty heavily on the manga, of course. Chapters 111 - 117 are all fairly significant to the Internet game. One thing that impresses me is team Obata/Hotta's skill in packing a real punch. They've been building up to this game for almost the entire manga, and they know how to deliver on all that's been promised. Ex.: look at how many observers -- worldwide-- are watching and commenting on the game, so that we casual readers can understand the depth and significance of the game better.

Chapter 115 is very interesting. Kouyou starts to get nervous and worked up even before Sai plays that incredible game-reversing hand because of Sai's intensity, and the realization that the intensity is exactly the same as during the Shin Shodan match with Hikaru. Kouyou starts clutching his left arm during Chapter 116, when he realizes that he will lose by half a moku. Now is this simply some unconscious gesture of Kouyou's -- his gesture of defeat -- or is his heart being strained (he *is* still in the hospital recovering, after all)? Clutching your arm is a classic sign of a heart attack. I don't know what Obata intended, but he certainly focuses on it. I couldn't help throwing it into my story. ^^;;

The Touyas' Residence:
Unfortunately, I haven't got access to my external hard drive at the moment, and that's where I've saved all my Hikago pics/manga. I found all the pictures of the Touya house, including the garden. It seems like a traditional Japanese garden (surprise surprise), to match the traditional house. I think a garden says a lot about a person's character, especially a Japanese garden -- there's a lot of philosophy and spirituality behind the principles of Japanese gardening. I learned this from an ex-co-worker, who authors books about Japan / religion / gardening in addition to teaching, a very cool guy.

Anyway, sometime, I need to finish uploading my billion and one photos I've taken of various Japanese gardens.

It's the go study that fascinates me the most (I think we get the best pictures during the "Sensei with his students" chapters). Inside the study's alcove is a wallscroll with a kanji on it -- shodo, or Japanese calligraphy. I remember seeing several such wallscrolls at the Go Institute, where presumably they are meant to inspire students and players. I asked aiwritingfic to interpret the Touya scroll for me -- unfortunately, it's partially obscured, but as best as we could guess, it looks like part of the kanji for "wait" or "time"... which is certainly appropriate!

We do get a very clear glimpse of the other object in the alcove. It's a doll inside a glass case -- a Heian courtier, to be specific. I am very amused at Hotta/Obata's sly allusion, but perhaps it's also meant to let us know that Touya Kouyou is a man in touch with his past and Go's past. Go first came to Japan from China through the Heian court, who were eager to absorb all things Chinese.

Shuusaku: Recall the go study room discussion about Shuusaku, and later during the Hokuto Cup arc, Yang Hai's conversation with TK about Shuusaku's hypothetical wandering spirit. TK didn't seem to think Yang Hai was being ridiculous at all. He seemed to take it quite seriously. This is a man who sits up at night, waiting at his goban for a response. He's very serious and intense, but also spiritual.

Tea: More than you ever wanted to know about tea! I developed a taste for tea while living in Japan -- before, all I had ever drunk was sweet tea (a black pekoe popular in the American South). I brought an instant water heater back along with a Japanese tea pot and a few tea blends. Green tea wiki. Green tea is probably the most popular drink in Japan, even though they do drink a lot of Coke and Starbucks too. Green tea has many magical properties health benefits.
Uji is near Kyoto, and is famous for tea. Also, some of Genji Monogatari takes place in Uji. I bet Sai would definitely be familiar with it.