#ogata oneshot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

laceymorganwrites · 2 years

Text

Livin´ on a prayer

Kinktober day 1: switching

Pairing: Ogata x fem!reader

Word count: 5,547

Warnings: mild gore, oral (fem! receiving), written in 3rd person

A/N: whoop whoop! I´m finally backkkkkk (let´s hope I can manage to finish everything tho lmao) and we´re starting the month with my favorite wildcat^^ I´m so excited for season 4 aaaah

Song: Livin´ on a prayer by Bon Jovi

Things have been rough for Ogata after Karafuto to say the least. Ever since he decided to do things his own way for once, think for himself and just do whatever he wanted for a change. And now there really was only place for him to go, it was the only thing he had left, the only thing he wanted in his life, the only thing keeping him sane. Well (Y/N) wasn´t a thing, she was a person. A person that was very important to him. He couldn´t tell if it was love since he never experienced that in his whole life, neither on the giving nor receiving end. So he didn´t want to call it that as long as he himself didn´t understand it fully.

He actually felt relieved when he entered the backdoor of her establishment, he couldn´t risk being seen and pulling her into his mess. She already did so much for him, she didn´t deserve the consequences of his actions. (Y/N) was about the only person he´d be considerate towards to.

The two of them always have been close, they hit it off as soon as they met. It was to be expected since brothels were always his home, though to be fair he still figured out what that even meant. But she really helped him with all of that, with his emotions, she didn´t look at him full of disgust and hate when he told her how he never felt guilty for his kills. And she was also the one who always listened to him, he trusted her enough to tell her all about his gruesome deeds in war.

Sometimes when he had a particularly bad day he´d even sleep over at her place. Most of the times he couldn´t sleep but he noticed that he was calmer in her arms, he liked cuddling a lot and she especially made him feel safe. Like nothing would happen to him. Because she wouldn´t let it. And that was because she actually cared, a lot more than she let on. Ogata saw her as a friend because he was too scared of anything more intimate even though they crossed that line a long time ago. And (Y/N) wanted to give him all the time he needed to figure things out on his own, she didn´t want to pressure him into a relationship just because she caught feelings.

As soon as she saw him she smiled slightly, already looking around the rooms to see which of the women were free currently. “Ah, no need.” he said as he noticed what she was doing. He appreciated it, she always had the prettiest women serve him but to him that was her. Especially lately on his journey when he laid awake at night, all alone. He just couldn´t stop thinking about her. “Alright, do you want some tea?” she asked, her gentle smile on her lips as always. He nodded as he took off his coat and put it on some chair where he sat down, running his hand through his hair to keep it out of his face.

During his travels he learned how to snipe again, he might have gotten just a tad bit better if that even was possible, he also put in his fake eye already, not really wanting to gross her out too much. When (Y/N) came back with the tea she noticed that he seemed to be deep in thought, which wasn´t uncommon for him but today it seemed especially serious. So she just sat down next to him, sipping on her cup of tea and waiting if he would say something. She didn´t mind the silence with him, she knew he wasn´t that big of a talker. Though sometimes he did surprise her.

“I´m glad you´re back, I missed you” her voice was quiet as she said it, it was the first time actually admitting her feelings for him, he was gone for quite a bit and she was so scared of never seeing him again, she just couldn´t keep it to herself any longer. She didn´t care if he didn´t feel the same but she couldn´t just act as if there was nothing between the two of them anymore.

He wordlessly blinked at her, needing some time to process what she said and come up with a sarcastic remark to hide his actual feelings because intimacy scared him.

“Aw come on, I´m not that good in bed” he smirked, she rolled her eyes chuckling but then looked him straight in the eyes, well eye… “Yes you are and you know it” she shot back, a sly grin on her face, knowing he knew that it wasn´t all there was to it. Even if he wasn´t ready to face it yet, he couldn´t escape from the fact that she liked him more than she should anymore. And maybe he did too. It was most probable but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind. It was too late for him anyway, there was no chance in hell she´d still want him with his injury. But he was quite surprised she didn´t say something about that earlier. She must´ve noticed as soon as she saw him, but he appreciated her not saying anything, giving him enough space and room to address it on his own if he wished to. But (Y/N) was someone who would never force anything out of him so even if he´d stay quiet for the rest of the night she would never hold it against him.

But he did end up saying something about it. That cocky attitude soon being washed away by his insecurities as he stared holes in his tea, he had both of his hands holding onto his cup to warm up.

“Maybe I was once but I don´t think I am anymore” he quietly mumbled. When he felt her warm hand against one of his, still cold on the outside, he looked up slightly to see her kind and gentle expression. Even after all these years it was still new to him. How anyone could look at him with something else than hate and distrust. Disgust and shame. But there were no such things in her eyes, they were so warm and empathetic, loving even. If being loved meant being safe like he was with her, being looked at like that, he so desperately wanted to be able to express the same to her. Because in that moment he knew he felt it too. Being with (Y/N) was like coming home, having a home in the first place, he never wanted to leave. But at the same time he did, he wanted to leave with her and go on adventures, settle down at the same time, conquer the world and withdraw to the farthest corner with her. If being in love felt like this he understood how greedy and gruesome people got for it. All things considered he already did in his life and didn´t feel guilty about, he´d do things tenfold worse than that if it meant seeing her smile at him for just a moment. Because in that moment everything was fine, everything was peaceful, perfect, calm and … pure. In a sense that was almost comical considering the fact they met and presently were in that same brothel.

Ogata let go of the cup so he could properly hold her hand, not quite facing her just yet but his eyes were fixated on their interlocked fingers now instead of the hot tea. He was quiet for a bit but eventually told her all about his journey and injury. As he realized that she wasn´t judging him for what he did and just listened closely to him, softly caressing his hand at the parts that were hurtful to talk about to him, he felt so secure. He didn´t have to hide the pained expression as he thought about the pain, about the consequences of his actions, about the fact he did something for himself for the first time, not just following orders of a mad man that was too far gone at this point. Parts of his journey felt freeing even, but he paid the price for that. However if that was what it took, what it cost to be reunited with (Y/N), he´d do it all over again. And because he felt so safe with her, knowing she would never judge him for the fact he couldn´t express his feelings as others could, knowing he overall had trouble with emotions, he felt safe enough to tell her how proud he was to be able to call himself a sniper again, that he felt more alive again, like himself, like a breathing human being. Though he didn´t associate the last part with himself before knowing her.

“Really? That´s great, but then again I didn´t think you wouldn´t be able to. I mean being a sniper is in your blood, it would be tragic if you wouldn´t be able to anymore” she told him, that honest to a fault smile on her face again. That smile he could look at for hours, knowing everything was going to be fine. No matter what went through his mind right now, screw the self destructive thoughts and all the doubts, questioning whether everyone who called him a wildcat was right, none of that mattered when he looked at her.

“You´re making it sound like I can actually be a man again” there it was, his self hatred, that dark chuckle that sounded more like a cry for help for her. She held onto his hand a bit tighter, gently caressing it. “Because you can. You never were anything less to me” she told him, this time averting her eyes. She was getting too bold. He was here for sex, to be a man again like he said. Not for her and her stupid feelings he didn´t even reciprocate. She should just stop it and so she did. (Y/N) wanted to get up and get him the prettiest woman she could find, if she had to continue her work herself. He deserved only the best. And she´d make that happen no matter what it took. But Ogata held her back, holding onto her hand like it was his lifeline because in a sense it was. “No. Stay. I don´t want meaningless sex tonight, I just want you… and I hate that you just made me say that but I know what you´re trying to do. And don´t. Just don´t. I thought we were past the point of sugar coating words so just say it. Say you don´t like me the way I like you and let me leave. Or say you feel the same and never let me go” (Y/N) wasn´t the only person unsure about her and his feelings, but the journey to Otaru made him hyper aware of his own. In a way that almost hurt.

Now it was her turn to wordlessly look at him. She just got a confession. Of his feelings. For her. By none other than Ogata Hyakunosuke. Now that was a rare occurrence if she ever saw one. Before thinking too much about it she pulled him close by the collar of his uniform to kiss him passionately. In this moment Ogata felt himself relax, much more than he already did whenever he was with her. Maybe it was because for once something good happened in his life, for once someone liked him for him, not his sniping abilities, not because of his mother, or his brother or father, not because he was in the 7th or anything like that. No she just liked him for… his personality? It sounded crazy to him to be honest so he thought that it might have something to do with the fact he gave incredibly good head. But maybe that was just because her cunt tasted the sweetest. He kissed her back eagerly, his tongue playing an all too familiar game of catch with hers, leaving him utterly breathless but he didn´t care. He did care about the little coffee table that was in the way between them so he pushed it to the side so he could wrap his arms around her, pulling her as close as humanly possible. She did the same, desperately clinging on to him and there was so much more emotion in the kiss than both of them were ready for, so much piled up feelings that have been repressed far too long.

She softly bit his lip like she always did and he couldn´t help but smile and then slightly chuckle into the kiss, his hands wandering all over her body and undressing her in the process. He used the moment when they broke apart for air to undress himself too, he knew she could get quite impatient in moments like these. When he was done he let (Y/N) marvel at him, she always needed that too. To touch him up like that, feel up his muscles and abs, she especially loved touching his inner thighs, maybe because she knew he was the most sensitive there. He´d hate it with anyone else, hate knowing they knew his most vulnerable spots and all his secrets, but sharing those things with her was much more intimate than he was ready for. But could you ever really be ready for love? Wasn´t that just the thing about it? That it hit you without any warning and then left you breathless?

She herself hated definitions when it came to feelings, you couldn´t explain them, that was the whole point. Instead she showed them with actions, of course she loved him. She knew him well enough after all those years but she still wanted to know even more. She wanted to know everything about him, experience everything with him, she just wanted all of him to herself.

Strangely enough Ogata felt the same about her. Nothing ever truly belonged to him, much less voluntarily stayed with him. But he was so sick of being used like a chess piece because he didn´t feel worthy enough to act on his own impulses, he didn´t really have any besides sex and shooting things. Until she came into his life. Somehow making her laugh was more satisfying to him than making her cum, though he always felt the proudest when he made both happen at the same time.

Just thinking about it and her made him dizzy in the best ways possible.

He hovered over her a bit, resting one of his hands on her cheek and the other on the floor to support his weight as he gently laid her down on the floor. Both of them couldn´t wait long enough to go to a proper room with a bed in it and both of them didn´t want to break their physical connection right now. Ogata was already half hard and normally it took him ages to get to that point so he really must´ve spared himself for her. It made her smile slightly, slowing down the kiss to make it more gentle and meaningful. It ended up being more tongue than lips but they always seemed to end up like that anyway, it was a routine she looked forward to every time.

Slowly but surely she felt his hands wander down to her hips which she spread for him, he broke the kiss to nibble slightly on her neck, leaving his marks this time. He usually didn´t leave any because he was too considerate of her not getting into trouble with other costumers but this time he just didn´t care. He´d much rather have her to himself anyway. And in the end he´d always been a selfish bastard, everything he did was for himself. And he wanted her too. Wanted to claim her as his own, maybe in a possessive way too but definitely not a harmful one. If he knew she didn´t feel the same he´d never have come back in the first place. Though maybe he would. He wouldn´t approach her, but he´d certainly watch her, wallow in his anguish of knowing she´d never love him back. Like all the others. And somehow that would bring him peace, knowing she wasn´t a freak like him.

But he knew better now. He knew that she was just as normal as him, she knew that they were two of a kind and finally he didn´t feel alone in this world anymore, he found a sense of belonging. It was so nice to be free of all the ties that bound him, of all the social status and faking smiles and respect, playing along with whatever sick thing Tsurumi had planned, pretending he didn´t know he was getting manipulated. It was all over now. None of that was on his mind when he was with her, she was his angel, purifying him in a sense. Purifying him in the dirtiest way they both knew. That thought made him grin, gently sliding two fingers over her wet cunt. “What´s so funny?” she smiled down at him, raking her fingers through his hair, spreading her legs even more for him. She loved the way he touched her, he wasn´t rough but also not soft. He was teasing, to an extent where he had her crying, begging him to stop and for more all at once. “Mhm, who knows. Maybe the fact that I got you all to myself now, that even though you get fucked every day I´m still the one who makes you scream the loudest” he whispered in her ear, nibbling on it slightly. She was already panting, how cute. Maybe all the smoking did him some good after all. It was no secret she had a thing for his voice, he never truly understood it but certainly made good use of it. Ogata was never one to talk much, or rather like to talk a lot. It really depended on the topic. He could taunt people for hours but casual talk? That wasn´t so much his forte, well he just didn´t care for it. Unless it was with her. With (Y/N) he could talk for hours on end. Especially if it meant teasing her in this state. He´d never get tired of that.

“My, my… so wet already~ I didn´t even do anything yet, are you that desperate? Can´t say I blame you though” he chuckled darkly, ghosting his fingers over her thighs, never giving her what she truly desired. It was too much fun watching her writhe in his touch.

“Fuck you” she moaned and his grin widened. “Oh come on, can´t even do that on your own? You want me that badly? Want me to make your legs shake with just my tongue? Make you cry out my name so that everyone knows exactly who you belong to? Fuck you so hard you can´t even think for yourself? Just say the word, we both know you want it, there´s no shame in it” he purred, how badly she wanted to wipe this smirk off his face, but she knew well enough that he wouldn´t let her tonight, there were too many emotions boiling over at this point, he was so unhinged, that hungry look in his eye she loved to see, at this point she´d let him do everything he´d damn well pleased, even let him fuck her in front of everyone to see but she knew he was too impatient himself for this right now.

“Just fucking do it” she groaned, not putting up with his teasing tonight, it´s been far too long for him to have an attitude like that. He let it pass since it was her. She wouldn´t be able to formulate coherent sentences in a bit anyway, so it didn´t really matter. “Fine, fine, you´re no fun” that didn´t stop him from teasing her a bit more though, his fingers lazily tracing patterns all over her skin before rubbing over her pussy, grinning as he put them in front of her mouth. “Go on, taste yourself for me”

She blushed, he was always so bold and yet she didn´t dislike it one bit, being obedient for him and opening her mouth so she could suck on his fingers. “Good girl” he grinned, starting to stroke his cock for her to see and dipping down to taste her for himself. Hyakunosuke always liked giving oral more than receiving it, he was the one in control, the one who held the power. And oh how immense it was. The second his tongue hit her clit she cried out his name. He had made her wait so long that now everything felt much more intense, a shiver went throughout her body, making her ache for him. Ogata looked up at her like she was a work of art. Not that he´d ever be interested in some boring pieces of painting. No, he meant the art of the battlefield, the art of his craft, the art he could understand and worship, the art he could relish in. She was an artform that only he could grasp and understand completely, just like he was for her, two outcasts of society, dancing and laughing in the bloody rain all alone while everyone else whispered among themselves just how fucking insane they were. And yes maybe they were, but did that really matter? The way they viewed the world was just so much more fun. They got everything they wanted after all, not being on any sides, just doing whatever they felt like whenever and craving chaos and their touch most of all.

Ecstasy.

Being with Ogata was pure ecstasy. It wasn´t even just sexual, (Y/N) and him felt completely and utterly understood for the first time in their lives. He chuckled darkly as his grip on her hips became that much tighter, as he felt the fiery passion only she could ignite in him, she was his driving force and only for her he wasn´t selfish. Eating her out gave him a weird sense of peace and belonging, for the first time in his life the voices were quiet, he was calm, her scent and taste calmed him down so much it was almost unbelievable. He always was so rough at first, diving his tongue and fingers in and out of her, overstimulating her clit in the process, but every time he had those almost romantic epiphanies in which he slowed down to appreciate the way she would look down to him, those beautiful eyes she could barely keep open, that mouth hanging wide open calling his name, those hands on his head, gripping his hair, tugging at it just the right way…

He grinned widely and sped up the movement of his tongue just enough to make her legs shake before moving away completely, making her whine and leaving her hanging. Ogata liked teasing her way too much. Maybe because he hoped she would take revenge one day. He liked playing with the thought of her completely and utterly dominating him and paying him back for every time he teased her a tad too much. But for now he simply kissed her with a softness that was so unexpected from a man like him. This gentleness she only experienced with him, the way he deepened the kiss and wouldn´t let go of her waist all the while. The way his fingers traced her stomach and then rubbed against her wet folds, slowly slipping in. He started to move them immediately, slowly at first since their kiss was still so gentle. He did crave those silent and quiet moments of inner peace he only found with her. She moved her hips along with him, with every curling motion of his fingers she panted heavier. He chuckled against her lips and hovered over her a bit, adding another finger that he just knew wouldn´t fill her up enough. He knew it and he anticipated it, anticipated the moment he would finally be able to give her what she really wanted, to feel those tight walls around his cock, he wasn´t a religious man but fuck if that wasn´t what heaven felt like. He groaned slightly at just the thought which was something he never did. Be vocal about his own pleasure and desires that was. But she made it so easy. Like it wasn´t something to be ashamed of, like he was normal. He hated feeling like an outsider, like the weirdo, like an abomination his parents always reminded him he was. But he never felt like that with her, she didn´t let him. She just made him feel like a man. And recently she became more bold, making him feel like a king instead. Hell, a god even. She really did love him, huh?

Love was such a foreign concept to him but with her he felt like he could actually grasp it. It was in the way her moans grew louder as he added another finger, driving her insane, she was just so impatient he loved every second. He liked to think that he was always in control in his life but she made him lose it all. He looked forward to it every damn time.

“Please… Hyakunosuke… I can´t wait much longer” she looked up at him with such pleading, irresistible eyes. How could he say no? Especially when she moaned his name so sweetly? He stroked his cock a few more times before he spread her legs even more, finally becoming one with her. She smiled up at him, watching every inch of him disappear inside of her, filling her up like nothing and no one else could. It filled Ogata with such an immense amount of pride, it was almost sacrilegious. It was in moments like this when they became one that she felt truly at home, it was the most natural feeling in the world to her and yet it was the most amazing one every damn time. Only with him could she feel this way. More than that she wanted to feel like this only with him. If there was ever someone else who wanted to steal those moments and feelings from her she´d beg Ogata to shoot them all down. And he would. Because for her he´d do anything. Especially if she was watching with those kind eyes of hers, that smile to show him she was proud of him…

And he was a greedy man, as if he´d ever let another bastard touch her the way he did, moan for him like she did for him, look at him like she was so in love she couldn´t even think straight anymore, look at him the way he looked at her. He grunted as he started moving, slower than usual, he wanted to savor every moment. She really was made just for him, clenching around his cock so deliciously. And then it hit him, she was just as greedy as he was. The thought made him moan and grin like a madman. In his euphoria he started moving faster, not even caring about the very thing he was scared of the most until it finally happened. At a particularly hard thrust of his, his fake eye fell out and landed on her stomach. Dread didn´t even come close to what he was feeling in this moment. He expected everything, her to scream, yell at him and run for the hills. To absolutely hate and despise him, to laugh at him, to throw up from how ugly he was now… but he didn´t expect her to smile up at him. He didn´t expect her to rest your hand on his cheek, stopping for a moment to kiss him softly and look at him full of worry.

“Did it hurt?” she asked quietly, putting the eye back in gently, maneuvering him so he laid on his back now. And he let her. They were still connected, maybe it was fucked up but her kind and gentle soul, her genuine kindness went right to his cock. He chuckled at her question and decided not to ignore it like he initially wanted to. No, with her he could be honest and vulnerable. Hell, she was the only person in this world who wouldn´t take advantage of it. “Actually I didn´t feel anything, got shot with a poison arrow” he said so casually and watched her lips twitch upwards as you laughed a little. Cute. “Lucky you. But the poison didn´t spread out much, did it? So… you can still feel this?” she accentuated her last question with a roll of her hips, propping herself up and leaning back just a bit so she would tighten beautifully around his cock. He bit back a groan and grinned up at her. “Feel what? I guess you´re gonna have to try harder to suck the poison out of me” it was a dare and he knew it, he also knew that she could very well just stand up and walk out of the room in just this instance to leave him to take care of himself. He knew that very well and still he craved to walk this thin line with her, testing the waters, no they were beyond that point now. He was slowly wading through her ocean just to the point where he couldn´t stay anymore and then he´d tease her to the moment he was completely underwater, seconds away from drowning. And then he´d behave again. Because fuck did he need her, cumming without (Y/N) wasn´t any fun. For some reason she let him every single time. Well no, she did punish him quite a bit which to be fair he always looked forward to a little too much. She sat on his cock, throbbing inside of her and stared him down, arms folded over her chest. She was waiting, testing how long it would take him to lose his mind. But both of them knew that he had been beyond that point for a long time now. Without any warning she lifted her hips off him until only his tip remained inside and then bounced down, taking all of him once again. She planned to be gentle with him today since it´s been so long since they last saw each other. But (Y/N) was getting impatient. And he was getting too cocky.

“Oh fuck, yup I definitely felt that one” he smirked up at her. “Good boy” she said sweetly and his smirk widened. He always was putty in her hands, he usually hated following orders but with her it was more than okay. She always took such good care of him. And hearing her praise him made it all worth it, all he wanted was to do a good job for her. He just wanted to be hers completely. She grinned down on him and he was in heaven. With every movement and thrust of her hips he became utterly lost in her, as if he wasn´t already. He wasn´t a religious man by any chance but if he could choose his deity it would be (Y/N). Hyakunosuke had a feverish look on his face as he watched her ride him, his hands gripping herr hips tightly, guiding them. Not that she needed any guiding but he felt like he would lose his mind if he didn´t touch her as much as he could. He had long since put any shame aside and moaned loudly now. “Please… please” he whispered, her name hanging from his lips like a prayer. “I know, baby, I know” she cooed, picking up pace all at once, her hips snapping and rocking against his, taking the breath out of him. He looked so irresistible underneath her, how could she hold back? Not when he looked up at her like she was a goddess. (Y/N) felt a rush go through her as she saw the way he looked at her, knowing she was the only one who ever saw this much emotion in him, being the only one he was so devout to. “Fuck...Fuck!” he groaned, he was close and he felt her tightening around him as well, he always tried to cum second but she made it especially hard today. His eyes rolled back as he dug his nails into her hips, thrusting up into her like a madman until he finally felt release. She felt it spill out while he was still inside. As always his voice was what brought her over the edge, the way he moaned herr name like the only thing that mattered. It was just perfect. She didn´t stop moving, instead opting to ride him slowly until she was exhausted as well, overstimulating him just a bit. He was still delirious from the pain and the medicine he took not to die, but she was the only thing he saw clearly. Ogata waited until she climbed down from him before he pulled her close to kiss her deeply, his hands roaming over your naked form. “I should visit more often” he mumbled, closing his eye, feeling at peace for the first time in years.

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy imagines #golden kamuy writing #golden kamuy reader insert #golden kamuy imagine #golden kamuy ogata #golden kamuy oneshot #golden kamuy fanfic #golden kamuy x reader #ogata hyakunosuke #ogata imagine #ogata oneshot #ogata scenario #ogata x reader

173 notes · View notes

twinsky · 5 years

Text

when I sat down to write a HnG oneshot, not a single part of me thought that it would end up being so goddamn long. but it is. fucking hell it goddamn is.

Title: a weight you can’t carry

Word count: 28k+

Summary: They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but it shouldn’t come at the loss of one’s own self. - Sai is gone but Hikaru is a boy possessed nonetheless.

(If Sai disappearing is his fault, then it stands to reason that he should disappear in order to bring him back.)

(ao3 link)

*warning for themes of depression, anxiety, grief/mourning, and possible identity issues, happy ending tho.

Looking through the book depicting page after page of Kifu’s of Torajirou’s – of Sai’s – games the answer had never seemed so heartbreakingly clear.

“I’m such an idiot,” he mumbles weakly, tears gathering slowly in his eyes, “Sai...”

A tear drips onto the page and he panics, rubbing at it furiously, worried that he might damage the paper, ruin the ink. After all, isn’t that all he’s good for, ignoring Sai’s legacy, ruining his greatness. Torajirou had known better, Hikaru hadn’t because at his core he’s always been a horribly selfish person.

The tears come again, faster than he can care to stop them, “I should have let Sai play from the start. Anybody would say that, it’s much better for Sai to play than me. I should have let him play every single game! Every game! Every single one!” The realization rocks him, like a punch to the stomach, and he stands there breathless for a moment. His legs tremble and he collapses back into the chair, burying his head in his hands.

“I’m just nothing compared to him, and I was too stubborn to see that. If I could just… have him back, start again, I would never ask to play another game, never.” His voice trembles, faltering, “God, please, take me back, let me do it right this time.”

Silence settles around the room, interrupted only by the sound of his breathing and sniffles. Something akin to a sob builds in his throat but what comes out instead is a laugh, harsh and grating. Well that, that’s fine, if God won’t answer his prayers than he’ll take matters into his own hands.

Sai shouldn’t have disappeared, so Hikaru will make sure he doesn’t, in whatever way he can.

“Please calm down.” A harried, panicked, voice says, floating up the staircase and Ogata lets out a sigh, lowering his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose. He shouldn’t have gotten so caught up reviewing that last game, whatever is going on right now he doesn’t want any part of it.

Though it is interesting, the Go Association isn’t exactly the most prolific of places, what could be causing that kind of commotion, especially at this late an hour. He rounds the corner, finally getting to see what – or more accurately who – is causing such a ruckus.

It somehow comes as no surprise to see Shindou half crawled over the counter looking as if he’s to strangle the man on the other side.

“I’d calm down if you’d just listen to me and do what I asked.”

“And Shindou, as I said, I think you should really sleep on this. If there’s an issue with your schedule or some personal problem we can work ar—”

“I don’t want to sleep on it, why is this such an issue, can’t I just sign a paper and be done with it?”

He stammers, eyes searching the room for help even though he must know he’s virtually alone in the building at this hour. Tragically, for Ogata anyways, his eyes fall on him and practically light up with relief. Well, there goes his chance at leaving unnoticed –not that he can deny his curiosity.

“Ogata Juudan,” He says, practically dripping with relief, “perhaps you could speak some sense into Shindou here…”

“I don’t” Shinou says begins and then freezes, sliding back down onto the floor and turning to look at Ogata with an almost eerie kind of slowness. His face does an odd sort of spasm, like it’s trying to figure out whether he wants to yell at him or run away. It shouldn’t be weird, the brat always looks like that when he looks at him. So he’s not sure what it is about this time makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Maybe it’s the fact that the look in his eyes is the haunted sort of look you expect from someone who lost something too precious to brave, or the fact those same eyes are red rimmed from a recent bout of tears. Shindou has always come across as a brash and cheerful kid, and it’s unsettling but he isn’t about to run away like some kind of frightened child.

He has some dignity.

“So what’s the problem?” He asks, putting a casual hand on Shindou’s shoulder, who in turns stiffens so fiercely Ogata thinks he might just crack like a statue under the pressure.

Shindou says nothing, hands curling so tight he can almost see the tips of them turning white but the other turns to look at him still gazing upon Ogata as if he’s some sort of saviour.

“Shindou here is saying he wants to quit being a pro.” He says, tone incredulous and Shindou’s head shoots up from where he’d been trying to glare a hole through the wood.

“I don’t want to do anything, I’m going to if you’d just let me.” He says, words almost a snarl, and just like the odd sadness hanging about him so to is this anger. Shindou is no stranger to anger or frustration but from the times Ogata has seen it it’s as loud and explosive as he normally is, not this cold cutting feeling. “I just became a pro, how hard can it be… it’s not like I’ve done anything.”

The last words are almost a whisper, but close as he is he still catches them, and while the phrase should come across as bitter or annoyed it instead sounds lost, regretful. Somehow it’s even more curious than hearing the boy who’s been chasing after Akira like a dying man chases water saying he wants to quit.

Well, Ogata helped get him in here in the first place, he supposes he might as well keep him here through whatever fit of madness has overcome him now.

“Yes, I understand that things are hard for you right now Shindou, but you shouldn’t overreact, perhaps a break would be good?” He turns to look at him, expression an interesting mix of confusion and rage and opens his mouth, presumably to yell something terrible at him, and is quickly silenced by a firm squeeze to his shoulder.

“Do you happen to know what’s wrong with Shindou?” He asks, clearly doubting a connection deep enough between the two of them for that kind of information but not vocalizing it. Ah, the benefits of being a well-respected title holder, even if that last part is just a few days old.

“Yes,” he replies, keeping his voice as solemn as possible. “There was… an accident recently and the boy lost someone dear to him. He’s a bit out of sorts.” With his hand on his shoulder it’s easy to feel the way Shindou almost starts to shake at the words and he stamps down the urge to raise an eyebrow, or pry, it seems his words might be more accurate than he could have guessed.

The other’s eyes soften, turning towards Shindou with a small smile, “Is that why you asked where you might find a ghost?” Oh? Interesting, “Loss can be hard Shindou, take your time, we at the institution will figure out what to do with your matches, we’ll send you a letter later with details.”

“I want to quit.” Shindou says again, but the words are weak, shoulders drooping. A good Go player always knows when the battle is lost. He shrugs Ogata’s hand off of him and slowly makes his way out. He watches him for a few paces before turning his attention back to the other.

He’s also looking at Shindou, with far more emotion than Ogata could dream of dredging up for a kid he barely knows, especially on a personal level, and then slides his eyes over at him.

“Thank you for informing me, Ogata Juudan. Shindou is still a fresh pro and a child at that, I’m sure the Organization will be willing to be a tad more lenient with their bereavement leave.” He hums noncommittally, no longer really caring. He’s done his part, and at the moment he’s more interested in seeing what he can get Shindou to actually tell him.

“No problem,” he says regardless and bids him goodnight walking as fast as he’s willing to let the other see.

The speed turns out to be unnecessary as Shindou is standing still in front of the building, gazing blankly at the sky. That’s three for three on creepy unsettling things the kid is doing tonight. If he were a superstitious man, he’d start wondering about possession right about now. But he isn’t, so instead he strides on over and places his hand on Shindou’s shoulder, spinning him around roughly.

“What do you want?” Shindou spits, but makes no effort to actually leave, shoulders slumped like he’s just taken a beating.

“You’re not actually quitting, are you?” He asks conversationally, “You’d break Akira’s heart.”

Shindou’s face twists into an interesting looking snarl, lips pulled back and everything, before it smooths out into a disturbing kind of calm. “I’m never playing again.” He says resolutely, “Hikaru is never playing again.” He adds, oddly, another weird thing, but the comment seems aimed more towards himself than anything.

Ogata scoffs, “I don’t know what’s going on with you kid, but don’t be stupid, you have skill. I might’ve been drunk but you beat me, I remember, drunk or not that takes talent.”

The expression Shindou makes at that statement is one he’d rather not described and in fact he’d rather be anywhere but looking at it. “That game wasn’t me,” Shindou says, almost venomously, before switching to a disturbingly fond tone, “but I’d appreciate it if you never did forget it, it’s the last game he finished.”

What? “What?” Maybe he should take the kid to the hospital or something, all this weird behavior maybe he hit his head.

“He liked your devotion, but he deserved better than that. That’s my fault though, not yours.” Shindou continues, either ignoring Ogata’s interruption or simply not hearing it. “So please remember it, I can write you a kifu if you want.” He offers nonsensically as his expression twists, “Actually that probably won’t happen, I’ve nothing on me and I don’t plan on seeing any of you ever again.”

He unintentionally loosens his grip in his confusion and Shindou once again shrugs him off taking two slow steps backwards. “So… bye?” He offers and then sprints off towards the station.

Ogata watches him disappear into the night and then sighs taking off his glasses and pressing his thumb between his eyes. He’s too old to deal with a fourteen year old acting like he’s seconds away from a mental breakdown.

‘God’, he thinks as he runs a hand through his hair, ‘I need a drink.’

He spends the entire ride home in a jumble of emotions ranging from livid to despondent. He had been so close, the man had been frustratingly stubborn but he would have worn him down eventually –he knows it! But then stupid Ogata had to come in and ruin everything.

It didn’t help that Ogata’s stupid idiotic story (Sai hadn’t passed, Hikaru forced him away with his selfishness) somehow managed to connect to Hikaru’s comment about ghosts and then he’d just accepted it without even bothering to ask him about it.

He sighs, tugging a frustrated hand through his hair, whatever, whenever the leave they gave him ends they’d realize he doesn’t ever plan on coming back. And leave or quitting, it does give him what he wanted, a valid reason for not showing up to his games.

Hikaru doesn’t care about his rankings, not when he doesn’t ever plan on moving up in them, but Sai had loved the game so dearly and would never approve of Hikaru leaving his opponents hanging, of disrespecting the game. Quitting had been final, and the simplest, this Bereavement leave or whatever would elongate the process, but at the very least he can feel like he’s done Sai right by respecting the game, respecting his opponents, even if he never plans on playing again…

Hikaru never plans on playing again. Hikaru never plans on doing a lot of things again. Because Hikaru is the name of a selfish greedy child who deprived the Go world of a master who could have revolutionized the game once again.

And Sai… Sai deserved much more than that, more than he’d ever be able to give, but he could do his best now. No one might ever know Sai existed but Hikaru does, Hikaru knows better than everyone, the games he played, the little bits and pieces of his past Sai would share, that Hikaru would bother to listen to (selfish self-centered brat, never listening to his friend when he shared), and knows the few people Sai played in person, that changed their views, and he knows those people might not ever know Sai, but they still won’t ever forget him.

But he… he could do more than that. Sai might not be alive anymore, might not be here anymore, but he can still live on through Hikaru. He’ll be the living memorial the other deserves.

After all, If Sai disappearing is his fault, it stands to reason that he should disappear in order to bring him back.

It’s not like Hikaru has ever been anything worthwhile to anyone anyways.

And maybe… just maybe… if he does all that, Sai will come back.

Shindou Mitsuko eyes flit over to the door once more, hands drumming anxiously atop the table. Her son should be home now, her son should never have left so late, her son… her son is an odd boy but he’s always been a confident, happy child.

She did not understand him, not as well as she used to, not when he was small and had hobbies that made sense like soccer and going to arcades with his classmates. One day her son went from a regular twelve year old to one who obsessed over a game she had barely heard of outside of her father-in-law. And here, two and a half years later, she still sometimes feels like she’s playing catch up.

Children grow up fast, she knows, her mother had told her when she had first held tiny Hikaru in her arms, a few years before she would depart this world to join her father.

They grow up faster than we can keep up with, she had said sagely, faster than we’re ever really ready for. Mitsuko understood that, or she had thought she did until her son seemed to grow into an almost stranger right before her. She thinks that if her mother were still here, she might agree with her. Children grow up fast, but Mitsuko looks at all the other children in the neighbourhood, Akari and the rest, and thinks all of them still seem the same, unlike her son who seems to have dropped everything she once knew of him and picked up an entire new set without bothering to tell anyone.

That’s not entirely fair, she thinks fiercely, raising shaky hands up to sip at her cup of tea. (She wishes the anxiety festering in her belly since her son disappeared out the door would ease, wishes he would run through the doors so she can be sure.) Her son’s interests have changed, but at his core he has still remained the same. Loud and boisterous, putting his all into things he was passionate about, blunt and honest to the point of rudeness, kind and helpful even when annoyed, all the things that made her son hers were still there, even if they were packaged in a shape she was still trying to decipher.

Her son was becoming a man, she thought some days, just faster than either of them were ready for. Because Hikaru was still a boy, even if he seemed to have already found what it was he wanted to do for the rest of his life, where he belonged. Mitsuko might not ever understand the game, but if it made her son that happy than she was happy too.

She thought that would be enough, she hadn’t ever pondered that it might not be. Her son was strange, had gotten a bit stranger since picking up the game – talking to himself sometimes, staring at empty air like he expected something to be there – but it was nothing dangerous. Nothing that had ever caused alarm, that would make her worry more than she regularly worried about her son.

In the two and half years since, Mitsuko had worried for her son a regular amount, maybe a bit more than that but her son had always been a bit reckless. She has cared and supported him in whatever way she could and for two and half years that had been enough and then… and then in the span of a few days her son feels like a stranger all over again. Except this time she doesn’t even know where to begin trying to understand him, especially not when her son seems to deny there’s something to understand in the first place.

Maybe he doesn’t know there’s something to understand yet, her son has always been a bit slow when it comes to certain things. But Mitsuko is no stranger to grief, she has experienced it twice over already, has lived and survived it, has watched others go through the same. She recognizes the signs even if she can’t place the reasons for them.

Hikaru wakes up one day and runs around the house like a boy on a mission, looking for something, and she notices it then. But noticing and understanding are two very different things and she can’t place it, what would put that scared look in her son’s eyes even as he acts like nothing is wrong. She hadn’t pried, not really, when her son was ready maybe but not before than –he’d be more prone to shutting down then anything.

She had thought she had some time, and then he’d gone and disappeared on a two-day trip without nary a word to her or his father. Called a day in that he was in Hiroshima of all places and she hadn’t been worried per say. Of course she was worried, her little boy was miles away with some man she’d never met looking at Go sites of all things, but she wasn’t worried. Her son was trying to find something and though she would have liked a bit more of a heads up instead of just suddenly disappearing on her, if whatever he was looking for helped him settle she would be happy.

Because all a mother really ever wants is for her children to be happy.

But then he’d come back home and had looked even worse, a weight too heavy for her son rested firmly on his back like there was nowhere else it could possibly be. She had thought, hopefully, that acting normally might clear the mood that hung around him but he had barely reacted, stumbling right up to his room.

And then just as quickly as he’d come in, he was back out the door, and since then Mitsuko couldn’t get the feeling of anxiousness out of her. She doesn’t care what he’s doing, or at this point what’s wrong with him, she just wants him home, wants to hold him in her arms.

Wants to shake the ridiculous notion that her son is fading away from her mind.

It feels like an answered prayer when the door finally swings open, Masao had already called to let her know he would be staying overnight at the office so it must be Hikaru.

“Hikaru? Are you back?” She greets warmly, pushing down the anxiety that threatens to bubble over at his continued silence. “Hikaru?” She tries again, standing up to meet him.

He’s sitting at the door trying to take his shoes off with the clumsy kind of focus she’s seen in Masao when he comes home after a night of drinking with his friends. He’s not drunk, but he seems just as shaky. “…Hikaru?” She tries one last time, hands fisting into her apron as she watches him flinch at the call.

“I’m home.” He says quietly, a voice too small to be his.

“Did you… did you find what you were looking for?” She tries, forcing as much casual cheer into her voice as she can muster.

Hikaru shudders, pausing in untying his laces. “No… I wasn’t careful and I lost it.”

She hums, lowering herself to the ground, he sounds more like he lost someone than something but she still can’t figure out who was so close to her son that their death or abandonment has left him so sad without her knowing. She reaches out, helping him finish taking off his shoes and then lifting him to his feet. He’s still staring at the ground, refusing to meet her eyes.

“It’ll be okay sweetie, you’ll see.” She says firmly and holds his hands tighter when she feels tear drops fall onto them.

What happened? She wants to ask, but she won’t. Her son has secrets he has kept close to his heart, and she won’t pry them from him. Maybe one day when his grief is older, a scar he’s learned to live with, he’ll find it in him to share it with her. But for now all she can be a support for when he’s willing to lean on her.

“It isn’t,” he says solemnly, still not looking at her, “But I’ll fix it, I have to.”

“Hikaru you—”

“I’m quitting go, being a professional all of it.” He says, finally tilting his head up to look at her. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused lately, I’ll focus on school, do my best to get into high school.”

The words die in her throat, rebuttals, questions, anything. Her son had been changing too fast for her to keep up, but she had still understood him even if only in the vaguest of senses, yet now he’s a mystery all over again. And the look in his eyes…

“I’m sorry,” He says again, bowing too low and it makes him seem all the more foreign to her, “good night.” He finishes softly, politely, and absolutely nothing like her son. Like a stranger wearing his face and his body but going through the motions all wrong.

“Good night.” She hears herself reply in the faintest of voices, staring down at the shoes she had helped removed. They’re so much smaller than his father’s, so much bigger than the pair she threw out just over a year ago when he outgrew them.

If her mother was still alive, would she still Mitsuko that this was normal? That her child was supposed to look at her with eyes that made her want to shiver and recoil away from him. She wants to think she would, if only to assuage her fears that she’s a bad mother currently running around her head.

But. But three days ago her son had been normal, or as normal as he ever was. And then he had looked mostly okay, if not a little frantic, a bit more erratic. Then he’d come home today looking lost and hurting, like someone had taken a shovel to his chest and scooped him all out. Without knowing the cause, she hadn’t been sure where to start but she had hoped with time he would settle, would let his grief grow into an old ache that would act up at remembrance but otherwise fade.

Except, the look in his eyes just now was settled, just in no way a child like Hikaru should be. He looked settled like a terminally ill patient aware of their imminent death would, the way men in war walk into certain death do. Her fourteen year old son gazed at her with eyes that said he had understood something he had no business even knowing about. Hikaru looked like he had reached some far-off place and Mitsuko had no idea how to bring him back.

There is something broken in her son that nestled so comfortably and deeply too quickly for her to even try to pry it out.

She takes a deep breath, scrubbing her hands along her face. Mitsuko might not know what to do but she can still do what she can. She’ll be loving, she’ll be supporting, and maybe her son will one day come back to her. Maybe someone who knows better will help him find his footing again, get him back on his path again.

Maybe get him back into that game. Hikaru had looked so much happier and livelier somehow since he picked the game up, and somehow him going back to school and focusing on his grades did not fill her with the happiness it perhaps would’ve if he did not look so heartbreakingly lost in doing so.

Until then, Mitsuko would do what she did best, and that was love and support her son even when she didn’t understand what he was doing.

And until then, Mitsuko would hope and pray that that was enough.

The teacher at his school might have said Sai didn’t exist, or, he huffs, there was no record of Sai existing, but the point is moot. Sai existed, existed in his memories, in every game they played, in every game Sai had played against someone else. His eyes scan over the book he had bought, a collection of Kifu’s of games played by Torajirou. Sai existed here even if no one but him knew it, in those games Torajirou (stupid, so much smarter than him Torajirou) had let him play for it. A style that he knew so intimately and could never have imagined since he had never bothered to look up any of these games before.

Why bother when Sai was a walking encyclopedia of Go knowledge all on his own.

Sai existed and he just had to… show everyone, somehow. Because Sai deserved to be acknowledged more than him, more than he ever would, and he’d spend the rest of his life trying to prove it.

First things first, studying, because Sai wasn’t an idiot. Sure the commodities of today had confused him, but that was just because none of it had existed. Sai had had a basic grasp on most of his subjects that still sometimes had gone over his head. And it made sense, he supposes, Sai was a Go Tutor for the emperor, even if it wasn’t he was there for he doesn’t think the palace would allow idiots through his doors.

And that leads perfectly into the second thing, research. Records might not show of Sai, but they do have pretty good information on what palace life was like, sparse notes on some other tutors, on what their lives were like. He can extrapolate from that and the things he does know for sure from Sai’s past, the parts that he remembers so clearly and get a better idea of the whole thing.

He can’t bring Sai’s memory back if he doesn’t have the full picture.

So he spends a lot of time in the library now bouncing between his school textbooks and book after book of Japanese History and the few books he bought himself on Shuusaku’s Kifu, taking the time to appreciate Sai’s Go like he never did before. If only to remind himself of how stupid and selfish he was. Immerses himself in anything and everything that might bring him closer to Sai, that might’ve made Sai a bit happier.

In the beginning Sai had often commented that perhaps he should be a bit more concerned with his grades, so he would.

Sai had often spoken with light reproach that he could do with being more respectful, so he would.

After all for all that Sai had sometimes acted childish around him he was a noble, and he was all those things and more, so how could he hope to be vigil of his memory if he wasn’t all those things himself.

Who cared if people kept giving him weird looks and his mother looked at him too softly and Akari kept looking like she either wanted to hit him or cry. None of that mattered, not to him, not if he wanted to do this right.

In the end all that really mattered was Sai, or, that was all that mattered now, because he hadn’t cared enough back then. And maybe if he did now, maybe if Sai saw much he cared he’d come back and give him a second chance, a chance to show Sai he did appreciate him.

It was a tiny little hope, but it was better than nothing.

Akira hovers at the entrance of Shindou’s school, and wonders if this is even worth it. He knows Shindou isn’t skipping matches, he’d overheard the harried conversation an official had had with the pro Shindou was set to play in that first match, some kind of personal emergency that would have him away for a while. And then, sure enough, had received a notice that same day that some of his matches would be rearranged and rescheduled, the first of which being his match against Shindou in the Young Lion’s Tournament, a name he could not place a face to his opponent now.

He doesn’t know what the problem is, and an overheard conversation between the insei only resolves that they don’t seem to know what happened to him either. For a moment he considers asking someone in the association, he thinks they’d probably tell him –even if they shouldn’t, people tended to do that sometimes around him. Adults especially, tell him things they didn’t mean to, because Akira was quiet and responsible and could be trusted to keep a secret or to not overreact. So he probably could’ve, but that had felt too much like cheating. Whatever was going on with Shindou, he wanted to hear it from the boy himself, or not at all.

However much Akira had been looking forward to that match, however much he had wanted to see how much Shindou had grown since he had last played him, since he had helped Ochi during the Pro Exam, since had gotten that letter announcing their first official match together. Akira might have been looking forward to that match with baited breath but despite what people thought he wasn’t insensitive, at least not on purpose.

If whatever was going on with Shindou was distressing enough the Association had been so quick and lenient with allowing him leave then it was serious. And whatever it was, no matter how much it personally annoyed him, Akira respect it. Though his father must have read the annoyance on his face, because one day over dinner he had out of the blue stated that there were somethings in life more important than Go.

He couldn’t help the incredulous look that statement had gotten from him, an expression so uncharacteristic for him that his mother had let out a laugh.

Odd as the statement was coming from his father, he knew it to be true, so he had been willing to wait for Shindou to return, or at least wait longer than he knew he would’ve if Shindou had just up and disappeared on them. He did not know Shindou’s number, not where he lived, or where he spent his time. Shindou had no way of contacting him, and if he had had any inclination of letting Akira know of his sudden leave Akira doesn’t know how he could have told him. The thought had assuaged some of the senseless worry the radio silence had brought, and he had been ready to wait.

He really had been, yet here he was, standing in front of Shindou’s school once again.

This is all Ogata’s fault, he thinks uncharitably, because it was Ogata who had gotten him worked up despite his best intentions. Who definitely knew more than every one else if the look on his face the few times the topic of Shindou had come up around him was anything to go by.

It was the fourth time that Akira saw him form a weird sort of grimace when Shindou was mentioned that he had had enough. Waiting until the conversation had died down to pull Ogata to the side where they could speak in private.

“Ogata-san,” He had greeted, and then wondered if he should use his title. It seemed a bit weird to do so, so he resolutely ignored the thought, “Do you happen to know something about Shindou?”

Again that weird grimace, like he’d rather be anywhere than here, talking about Shindou. Which was, kind of weird actually now that he thought about it. Ogata had been so sure that Shindou and Sai had some kind of connection, why would he want to avoid talking about him now.

“Brat’s an odd one,” Ogata had said at length, hand twitching like he wished he was holding a cigarette.

“So you do know something?” He had pushed.

Ogata sighed, looking up. “I don’t know a damn thing other than that kid needs some help.”

“Help? Is Shindou alright?”

“Wouldn’t know,” Ogata had eventually replied with a shrug, looking both shockingly genuine and blasé in one movement, “maybe you should go visit him, if anything I’m sure he could use a friend.” Then he had sighed again, removing his glasses and pressing his palm to his head, “Now scram if you would please, I need a smoke.”

“Of course,” He replied, bowing politely, “Thank you for your help, Ogata-san?”

“Thank me after you visit him.” Ogata had said with a laugh, unsettling and casual.

He had thought over Ogata’s words for a bit, and now here he was just over three weeks after Shindou’s first missed match staring at the entrance of his school. Another passing student gives him an odd look and he sighs, he made the trip here he might as well see it through.

If he remembers right the Go club is somewhere that way, and though whatever Shindou’s issue might be keeping him from school perhaps someone there can tell him where he is at least.

The window to their clubroom opens just as he approaches, and a girl he vaguely remembers hanging around Shindou peeks out. Her eyes meet his and she brightens, waving him over with a smile. “Touya, hey! Come here!”

“Ah, hello…” Tsuki… no Fuga… Fujisomething he thinks.

“Fujisaki Akari,” She greets easily, leaning slightly against the windowpane, “What brings you to our tiny little Go Club?”

“I was hoping you might know where Shindou is?” He asks, because if he was in the room surely he would have appeared to yell something about him by now.

Fujisaki frowns, looking almost pained for a second, “Library maybe?”

Library? He thinks with some confusion, that wasn’t exactly high on his list of places he expected Shindou to be.

“Yeah,” A girl he doesn’t recognize says, “Passed him by on my way here, head buried in a book like it has been since he decided to go absolutely insane.” She concludes, offering directions to the library when she does.

“Kaneko!” Fujisaki scolds and then droops with a sigh. “Can’t say you’re wrong though, think I’d rather have him back to yelling at me for making a stupid move during a game than this.”

“Is Shindou okay?” He’s always come across as a bit odd and eccentric, but he doesn’t think that usual behavior would justify supposed friends calling him insane.

The girl, Kaneko, scoffs and Fujisaki frowns, waving him closer with one hand. Hesitantly he obliges and when she deems him close enough leans in, one hand raised to gently cup around her mouth.

“Hikaru,” She says quietly, lower than a whisper, as if saying it louder will make him appear out of thin air, before bringing her volume up to a more casual whisper, “has been a little bit weird these past few weeks.”

“Yeah, sure, just a little bit.” Kaneko says, too loud in the quiet of Fujisaki’s whisper. It startles him back and he notices then she’s come to lean against the other end of the windowpane.

“Fine!” Fujisaki near shouts, throwing her hands up, “He’s a big weirdo and any time I ask him what’s wrong he gives me this disgusting polite looking smile and says nothing. Like! What! He’s not polite, it’s creepy and when I told him that the third time he seemed sad and said “yeah I know” like I had just kicked his puppy.”

Akira stares, transfixed, and wonders if it would be weird to leave now. Surely she doesn’t want Akira to watch her act like this?

She whirls though, gaze fixating on him with a similar fire he recognizes from Shindou, and somehow he understands instantly how the two of them are friends.

“You though, he used to talk about you, how he wanted to beat you, the boy who helped start his obsession with this game. Maybe you can help.”

“… Used to?” He asks weakly.

“He won’t play.” She says flatly, looking annoyed. “At first I thought he meant he wouldn’t help us practice anymore but then his mother asked me if I knew if something had happened because he told her that he plans on quitting. He tried to or something, but now he’s on leave, and I don’t know what’s wrong with him because I still see him looking at Go Books but he swears he’s never gonna play again.”

It shakes him more than he’d like to admit. Shindou was Akira’s self-proclaimed rival, and though he had constantly scoffed at the idea whenever he or anyone else brought it up he could not deny that having Shindou running after him was… inspiring. For so long Akira had soared above those in his age group that the idea of Shindou being a challenge just for him was something that pushed him to get better now more than anything else had ever really managed.

And Akira had thought Shindou had felt the same, why wouldn’t he. Whatever was going on with him now would pass, and then he and Shindou would meet across that goban and they’d both get something out of that. That that would not happen had never even crossed his mind.

He suddenly feels bereft and he clenches his hand to steady himself.

Fujisaki gives him a knowing expression, smiling weakly. “He’s in the library,” she repeats, “Maybe try talking some sense into him? Because he sure isn’t listening to any of us.”

From behind her the sound of a door opening echoes, and two voices call out their arrival and an apology.

“It’s fine,” Fujisaki replies, eyes still trained firmly on Akira, “we haven’t started yet.”

“I should go, I don’t want to interrupt your club activities any more than I have.” He says after a moment of silence, bowing politely at the two of them and heading towards where the other girl had directed him.

“It’s no trouble at all.” Fujisaki calls out a beat too late, when Akira has already turned to leave and he pauses turning back to her. “Hey,” she says when she notices she has his attention, looking a tad nervous for the first time during this whole conversation. “Since… since he won’t come help us anymore, do you think you might? I know you probably have a super busy schedule, but just whenever you can. Kaneko and Mitani could use a good clobbering, getting egos that are a bit too big if I do say so myself.”

Akira stares at her, confused. He doesn’t take students, Ochi was an exception. Being so young it’s just weird, teaching games in the salon are one thing, but one on one is a bit much. And children his own age well, Akira’s never been good with that.

Still, if Shindou is really being as weird as the two of them say, it’d be a good way to slyly keep an eye on him.

Would that be rude? Accepting her request under the pretense of using it for a different end goal. He looks over at her, and sees that same fire in her eyes once again. No, no he doesn’t think so, something tells him she’s asking him for that very reason.

“If it is not a hindrance that I can’t promise any sort of consistency, than I accept.”

Fujisaki’s eyes light up, clapping her hands together. “Perfect,” she cheers, then shoos him away, “See you whenever Touya, go bother Hikaru now.”

Yeah, definitely asked him just to keep an eye on Shindou.

As both girls had said, he does find Shindou in the library, bent over a textbook writing something into a notebook, surrounded by a bunch of other textbooks spread around him. It’s… weird, Go Players don’t tend to be stupid, not by any means, the skills the game requires lend well to schoolwork and though they might not all be straight A students they do fair well. Even knowing this, the tableau Shindou depicts is completely at odds with the little he does know about the boy. Given what Fujisaki had said, he doesn’t think he’s wrong in that assessment.

He approaches slowly, getting close enough to read the title of some of the books. Shindou is reading what seems to be an English textbook, a Science and Japanese textbook stacked neatly right beside him. Then, haphazardly spread around him a couple History texts, a few distinctly regarding the Hien Period, and Akira spots at least one book that looks like a compilation of Kifu, but the book is half hidden beneath another and he can’t read the title.

If Shindou is still reviewing Kifu, he can’t be quitting right? Maybe his parents just want him to focus on school for a bit, but Fujisaki had said Shindou’s mother had asked her what was wrong with him, so she didn’t know, so that couldn’t be it.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, the association had granted Shindou leave. What could be important enough to demand that yet his mother didn’t know about.

More questions and still no answers, but he supposes that’s why he’s here.

“Shindou,” He says, then pauses, unsure of how to begin. The call is enough however, Shindou pauses in his writing, putting the pencil down and looking up.

“Touya-kun,” Shindou says, slowly, and carefully, and not at all familiar, “what brings you here?”

Hikaru isn’t polite! Fujisaki had said, it’s just creepy, she had proclaimed. Akira was inclined to agree, there was something undeniably unsettling about Shindou right now, maybe it was the tone or the weird almost blank look in his eyes. It made the fact that he had used a honorific when he had never bothered before stand out all the more.

“You –you haven’t been showing up for your matches.”

Shindou looks at him, then down at his books, then back at him. “I don’t have matches, I’m on leave.”

“Yes, I know,” he replies, and carefully keeps his words level. He doesn’t want to snap at Shindou when the uneasy feeling building in his stomach says he wouldn’t reply in kind. “I suppose I wanted to know why.”

Shindou huffs, slouching a bit in his seat and this reaction is easier to pair with the boy he knows. “Why is everyone being so nosy, this is my business.”

“You’re my rival aren’t you, didn’t you say so? I think I have a right to know.” He says firmly and stamps down the urge to lean away when Shindou straightens, looking him directly in the eye with a blank gaze that’s even worse than before.

“No. I’m not, I’m not good enough and I never was. I’m sorry for leading you on.” He says, once again slowly and carefully, even punctuating the statement with a short bow. “Either way, if you’re going to ask I’ll tell you. The association has put me on Bereavement Leave for three months.”

“Isn’t that usually a couple of days?” He asks bluntly, before what that means registers and feels rude for asking. “I mean—”

“It is.” Shindou replies, “They said though that it’s less a leave and more purposefully not scheduling me. I’m new so it’s not like I’d be busy and,” his lips curl in a frightful kind of way, “I’m just a kid so they don’t want to pressure me.”

“And then you’ll come back?” He asks, Fujisaki had said Shindou planned on quitting but surely that couldn’t be true, perhaps she had misunderstood him. He still had that book of Kifu after all…

“I’m quitting, I wanted to just quit in the first place, but they wouldn’t let me. I told you, I was never good enough, this is just setting things back where they were, the way they should be.”

It’s annoying, frustrating, the way Shindou puts himself down. Shindou was good, how good he had gotten Akira didn’t know but bad players didn’t pass the Pro Exam. Unconfident players didn’t yell at Akira that they were going to beat him after playing one of the worst games Akira had had the displeasure of playing against during that one school tournament game. Shindou wasn’t a bad player, and he wasn’t unconfident, so why was he suddenly convinced of one and acting like the other was beyond Akira’s comprehension.

“You’re not weak, you’ve come this far haven’t you, in less time than people are willing to believe.” He says resolutely, frustrated when the only reaction that gets is a slight downturn of his lips.

“You only think that because it’s not me you see. I can’t give that to you, and I’m sorry for that, you deserved better.”

‘If you keep chasing after my Shadow the real me is going to catch up with you.’

“I see you, I want to play you. The you that you are, the you that you will become. I want to play that person and no one else.” It’s a bit too much for him, Akira is passionate when it comes to Go, but outside of that… not so much. It is a heavy admission, but one he’s grateful to have said because it places the most emotion Akira has seen on Shindou’s face this whole time.

“You’re wrong,” Shindou says shakily and he won’t meet Akira’s gaze. “You don’t, no one should, it was a mistake. Hikaru playing a mistake, one I’m going to fix.”

Akira blinks, suddenly feeling too far out of his depth. He isn’t good with emotions, what exactly was he expecting to accomplish in this conversation.

“Losing someone can be hard…” He says slowly, thinking of his Father, of how close they had come to losing him, “But you shouldn’t blame yourself, it’s not your fault, they wouldn’t want you to throw everything away.” If he had quit Go because of his father, he doesn’t think he could face him confidently in the afterlife, his father had never approved of running away from things.

Shindou apparently disagrees, if the wild hurt look he throws at him at the declaration is to be believed. “You don’t know anything.” Shindou hisses, before pausing and taking a deep breath, schooling his expression back down to placid and then standing up and gathering up some of the texts moving them to the collection rack nearby. “This is the only thing I can do, it’s what I have to do. I apologize that you came all the way here for nothing, but I don’t have anything to offer you anymore Touya-kun.”

He watches dumbly as Shindou gathers the rest of the books and places them carefully into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Then why did you even become a Pro in the first place?”

Shindou blinks, “Because I was selfish.” He says simply and then leaves.

Akira stares at the empty space that Shindou leaves behind and wonders what the point of this was. He came to speak to his rival and instead feels like he found an empty shell instead. And just what is he supposed to do with that? He still cared about Go, Akira was sure of it, Shindou didn’t speak like he hated it, more like he hated… himself, hated himself for playing it. Which was weird, and Akira didn’t understand that in the least, but it meant there was a hope, however futile, that he could get Shindou to remember how much he loved to play it.

If Shindou wouldn’t chase after him, then he’d drag him along until he did.

As his grades start to improve (it turns out he’s pretty good at it if he bothers to put in half an effort, though his teachers had given him suspicious eyes at the sudden boost at first), he has more time to do other things he has learned in his readings.

He comes across the Four Arts, which is apparently Chinese in origin but Sai had done it hadn’t he? He played Go, he could play an instrument, and he had once remarked in near agony how poor his writing was so that meant he had probably been a talented calligrapher. (He had pointed out that Torajirou had splendid writing, and he decidedly ignored that part, he spent a lot of time ignoring Torajirou’s existence nowadays, it just made him feel even worse about himself.) He wasn’t all that sure about the art, but if you had three, might as well get the fourth right?

So he’d do them too, he didn’t care much for music or art but for Sai he’d be willing to pretty much anything at this point. It was the least he could do, offer up everything he had to the other.

And that was found him here, in the art department picking up brushes and calligraphy supplies. Maybe some paint too, get two of them while he was here. He sighed, reaching into his pocket, he wondered if his mother would be willing to give him an advance on his allowance soon. He had some money saved from past allowances, and the members at the Go Salon had started pressing money into his hands for his services despite his best efforts to deny them so he had a fair bit at the moment but he knew it wouldn’t last. Not if he kept spending it buying things like this –and instruments he knew were expensive, even with what he had there was no way it was enough.

He’s still thinking about his monetary woes when he reaches the register, the salesladies words breaking through the haze of his thoughts.

“2350 yen,” she says with the bored placidness most teens and young adults display at these kind of jobs.

He blinks at her, staring at her ears and the small pale blue studs adorning them. “Where did you get your ears pierced?” He asks, absently handing over a few bills. “They look nice.” He adds after a moment, to be polite.

The girl gives him a weird look as she handles his change and finishes packaging his purchases. “Tattoo parlor down the street in the alley. Aren’t you too young for that?”

He shrugs, “Would they let me in?”

She hums, “Dude’s an odd ball, and the piercing station is right at the front, so maybe.”

“Thank you, have a nice day.” He says, and she blinks at him, calling back the same to him just as he reaches the exit.

He goes straight to the parlor from there, and sure enough a youngish looking man covered in tattoos with shaggy blond hair greets him, raising an eyebrow at his age but not immediately telling him to leave the premises. Great start, all things considered.

“Whatya want kid?” The man asks, “Ain’t no one here other than me right now if y’r looking for someone.”

“Would you please pierce my ears? I’ll pay extra if my age is a problem.”

The man sits up from his slouched over position, eyeing him a bit more carefully. “Ya know malls have things like this too right? Use that weird gun thing too, less painful and not as sketchy as here, probably cheaper too.”

“You use a needle right?”

The man nods, “Traditional, but better if you ask me.” He looks him over again, “Still…”

“That’s what I want.” Sai’s ears had been pierced, and they sure hadn’t had any fancy machines to do it back then.

He stands walking around the counter and looming over him, then he grins, flicking him in the forehead. “Weird kid, I like you. The names Kairo, go sit over there.” The man, Kairo, says, waving over at an elevated chair.

“That’s not your real name.” He says.

“Nope,” Kairo says, popping the p, “But I like it, not that it matters, don’t have ta give me your real name if you don’t want to either. Better that way actually, plausible deniability an’ all that.”

He hums, “My name is Sai,” he says carefully, each word like a prayer, because maybe then it would be real, maybe then he’d come back.

Kairo laughs, “Sure it is buddy, now come on, get over here.” He says, patting the chair as he fiddles with the large rolling cabinet next to it. He obliges hopping onto the chair, eyes landing on the top of the cabinet, row after row of different kinds of earrings. “See anything you like?”

He stares at them intently, eyes finally landing on a pair of deep red studs, almost pearl like in their roundness, and slightly larger than the ones he had seen on the girl. Ones that looked so much like the one’s Sai had worn.

“These ones.” He says, pointing at them through the glass and once again Kairo raises an eyebrow once again. He wonders what the man thinks of him and then promptly decides he doesn’t care in the least.

“You got it kid.” He says and then silently takes to work, a process that can’t take longer than a handful of minutes and yet feels like an eternity.

“Want to see?” Kairo asks and he stares, one hand raising to his ear to touch it and then flinching at the sudden rush of pain. “Woah, careful, that’ll be tender for a while.”

He nods absently, reaching for the mirror and then staring. They really do look just like his, like a real physical reminder that Sai was here, that he existed. And now he can wear it around, let people know, even if they might not understand.

“How much is it?” He asks, confused as to why his voice comes out so congested. There’s a beat of silence after which he turns to look at Kairo who’s looking at him with poorly disguised concern. “What?”

“You like it?”

“I love it,” he says, frowning when his voice cracks.

“Well, it’s just, you’re crying is all.” He replies, looking visibly uncomfortable.

He blinks, and this time feels the fresh rush of tears that fall at the action. “Ah, so I am.”

Kairo sighs, scrubbing the front of his face, “Sai, kid, whatever, get out of here.”

“I need to pay.”

“That’s when it becomes illegal.”

“You didn’t care about it before.”

“Well, suddenly, I do so scram, come back again some day and maybe I’ll consider taking your payment.”

“But –”

“Leave,” Kairo says with finality, shoving a handful of tissues at him, and a piece of paper with instructions of care.

“Thank you,” He says sincerely, bowing a bit lower than he meant to. When he rights himself Kairo is frowning but says nothing.

He leaves.

When he arrives home his mother is in the kitchen, she turns to greet him when he enters and then her lips twitch like she can’t decide whether she wants to scold him or not.

“I got my ears pierced.” He says and then feels bad for not thinking of how this might upset her. She’s seemed stressed recently, he doesn’t want to add to that. “Sorry for not running it by you.”

She shakes her head, “No…”

“Mom?”

“Do you like them?” She asks, then pauses, “Do they make you happy?”

The question unsettles him, his heart suddenly feeling too fast and too loud. But… he raises a hand, once again running his fingers over it and ignoring the wince of pain.

But… “Yes, yes it does.”

She smiles, “Then it’s fine.”

It’s not, not at all, but for one fleeting moment he finds he agrees.

Yoshitaka doesn’t know why he’s let Touya of all people of all people convince him to get check on Shindou, but he did. Maybe it was the fact he had said it almost urgently, or the fact that he looked like he was about to reach out and grab him if he tried to walk away before he got through his request. And watching far too polite and proper Touya Akira look just that little bit wild and off kilter was enough to keep him listening despite his dislike.

Then he’d gone and mentioned Shindou of all people, who had become sort of a Taboo topic ever since Morishita-sensei had announced that Shindou would not be joining their study sessions for the foreseeable future, in a tone that brooked no argument. And of course he had wondered, Shindou had been removed from all his matchups, but was still a Professional since there was no rumours of him being kicked out, and no one knew anything. He and the rest of the Insei group had wondered, had theorized, but none of them knew anything, and none of them had any way of contacting him. He could ask the association or Morishita-sensei for his address, but with all the secrecy around it, he had really doubted they’d tell him even if wasn’t a secret that they were friends.

So as much as it annoyed him Yoshitaka had no way of finding him, and his best hope was tragically hoping he’d just randomly run into him. It was frustrating and left him feeling more than a little helpless. It was somehow more annoying to have the address handed to him by Touya, why the hell had that bastard known before him, possible rivals or whatever, he would think someone Shindou actually spoke to on the regular would rate a bit higher.

He’d have been more annoyed, maybe even given Shindou an earful about it, but when he’d asked Touya how he got it the boy had gotten flustered of all things and muttered something about a Fujisaki. Which was, interesting, and also hilarious, if Shindou was around he’d have probably found it hilarious. But he wasn’t. Which was the problem, and the reason why high and mighty Touya had bothered talking to him at all.

“Why me?” He had asked after Touya had gone through his spiel.

And then he blinked, like he couldn’t understand why someone would ask such a stupid question, and it reminded Yoshitaka very clearly why he hated the other. “You’re his friend, I thought you could help.”

Then he’d gone and said that, and he hadn’t known what to think.

“And you’re not?”

Touya’s face pinched in an interesting way, like he wasn’t sure what to think of the question. “Maybe? I’m not sure, I’ve never really thought about it.” Then he had shook his head, like not knowing whether you were friends with someone who acted like he was obsessed with you was totally normal. Absolute freaks the two of them were sometimes. “That’s not the point though, you’re better with people than I am, and have spent more time around Shindou than me, I thought you might do better than me.”

“With what?”

“He could use a friend.” Touya had said, sounding more like a parrot than a human. “So if you find the time, I’d really appreciate it. He’s usually on his way home by 4:30 or five.” He had concluded casually, like knowing when someone got home wasn’t creepy or stalkerish at all. Then he’d bowed politely and left without waiting for a response and it made Yoshitaka want to rip his hair out.

But if the stuck-up weirdo was right, Shindou needed some nice friendly support and Yoshitaka would be kind enough to give it to him. Despite everything, he didn’t doubt Touya’s sincerity, he wasn’t the lying type and if the Association was carefully avoiding setting him up for matches then surely it was something serious.

So here he was, sitting on the swing set of a playground at 4:30 waiting to see if Shindou would walk by. He could just go to his house, and he would if he didn’t end up passing by, but unannounced visits weren’t polite or whatever, and if there was something going on with Shindou’s family, he didn’t want to be rude.

Touya had better have been accurate with his weird stalker knowledge, because otherwise he’d give him an earful for wasting his time.

But, terrifyingly enough, Shindou does start to walk by a couple minutes later. And it’s Shindou, that hair is unmistakable, but there’s something off about it though, but he can’t figure out what.

“Hey, Shindou!” He calls, pushing that aside as he walks over to him, he’s just paranoid from Touya’s weirdness.

Shindou pauses, turning to look at him slowly and then just staring for a second. Which, alright, decidedly weird and kind of creepy, but he also looks super tired so that just might be all it is.

“Ah, Waya-kun, nice to see you.” He says, even bows slightly, if Touya was going to tell him to visit Shindou he could’ve at least mentioned he’d gone insane. Or maybe he had, he’d kind of tuned out that first half.

“Are you alright,” he asks, poking the other in the head, “did you hit yourself?”

“No,” Shindou says with a scowl – a much better expression if you ask him – swatting his hand away as he ducks under it. His hair shifts under the movement and then he sees it.

“Woah,” He says, grabbing Shindou’s head and tilting it to the side, then the other. “You pierced your ears? I know you got that delinquent look with the bleached hair but I never pegged you for the type.”

“Would you—would you get off of me. What’s wrong with you, yes they’re pierced and I’m not a delinquent.”

Yoshitaka relents with a laugh, backing away with his job done, mussing Shindou’s hair for good measure. Shindou looks about ready to attack him and he grins, expression clearing as Shindou takes in a breath, standing up straight and schooling his expression.

Absolutely unsettling, he thinks, considering Shindou’s usual behavior.

“Why are you here?” He asks, voice an interesting mix of annoyed and polite.

“A boy can’t visit his friend?” He swoons, “You wound me Shindou, wound me.”

“We were friends because we played Go together, I don’t do that anymore.”

“We’re friends because –wait, what.”

Shindou stares at him with those weird eyes, frowning. “I quit, or I’m quitting,” He scowls, “as soon as my official leave is over I’m quitting no matter what they say. So then, we aren’t friends right? Why are you even here? Did Touya-kun ask you, I told him to leave me alone.”

“What. I don’t, what. First of all, we’re friends because I like you and we get along, we just met because of Go. Second of all, what do you mean you’re quitting?”

Shindou looks at him like he’s an idiot for not getting it, and how is it that even half insane both of them are still so similarly infuriating. “It means I won’t be a professional anymore, pretty self-explanatory actually.”

He counts to ten in his head, strangling him won’t help. “But why, you worked so hard, you earned that spot, and now you’re just going to throw it away?”

Shindou shifts, as if the memory of caring about Go is somehow uncomfortable for him to remember. “I…”

“What’s going on with you, Shindou? If something’s going on we can move past it, you don’t have to quit.”

“I do… I do have to quit, it’s the only way I can make things right again, the only way I can make up for it.”

“… It’s just a game Shindou, it’s our job sure but it can’t make miracles happen or anything.”

“It’s not just a game!” Shindou shouts, “He cared about it so much and I took it away from him because I didn’t think. And now… now he left me because…”

His shoulder’s are shaking, Yoshitaka notes with absent horror, and he reaches out to place a hand in support but Shindou flinches away looking up at him with uncomfortably watery eyes. “I don’t, I don’t know who he is Shindou, but –”

“That’s the problem isn’t it?” Shindou says softly, “No one does and that’s my fault too.”

Then he starts crying and Yoshitaka has no idea how to deal with that.

Shindou does apparently though, wiping them away like it’s just a casual everyday occurrence. “Look, I have to go home,” he says, voice shaky, “thank you for worrying but I’m fine. It was nice seeing you but like I said, I’m quitting so you don’t need to bother anymore. Or you could completely ignore that like Touya-kun’s been doing.”

He turns to leave, as if you can just say all that weird stuff and then just walk away, and Yoshitaka stares for a moment before reaching out to grab him by the hand.

“Hey, I don’t get this, not at all, but I can tell it’s something serious. Still, even if you do really decide to quit I’m still your friend alright? That doesn’t change.”

The way Shindou looks at him at that, like he can’t quite believe that’s true, hurts and he wonders again what exactly hurt his friend so badly.

“Ah… th-thank you.” He replies at length, looking just to the side of Yoshitaka’s face like he can’t bring himself to look at him. And then he runs, like actually runs away.

What the actual hell?

Yoshitaka sighs, running a hand down his face, maybe he should’ve walked away from Touya when he had the chance. Then he could have lived in blissful ignorance of this mess, but…

“Goddamnit!” He shouts into the empty air, there was just no way he could walk away from that. Maybe if Shindou had been annoying or casual about it but not when he was acting like that.

He groans, resigning himself to the fact he was going to have to talk to Touya of all people about this because he seemed to know more about it then he had initially let on.

Whenever Shindou stopped being sad and weird he was totally going to owe him for this.

The thought was weirdly comforting.

He learns he kind of likes calligraphy, he’s laughably bad at it at first, but then again his penmanship had been absolutely terrible before he started. He was alright now, strokes still sometimes too hesitant or shaky, but a great improvement from before.

Art was a completely different beast, he was just terrible at it. He could see improvement sometimes, but it was nowhere near as fast as calligraphy had been, and he didn’t see the pace picking up any time soon.

It was infuriating, he didn’t want to be patient about this, needed to get better now, had to keep improving and moving because then he could feel like was actually doing something worthwhile.

It’s like a testament to all his mistakes that he dreams of Sai that night.

There’s a goban between them but he pays it no mind, staring at the other instead.

“Sai,” he says reverently, wishing he could reach out and grab him but his legs remain firmly rooted to the ground. “Sai I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to, but I’m trying to make it better okay? And then you can come back and it’ll be like before, even better than before.”

Sai frowns at him, and his heart clenches and he stamps down the irrational urge to laugh. “I… I know I was selfish but I’m fixing it.” He says pleadingly but Sai shakes his head, frown still in place.

“What do you want? I’ll do it, Sai, anything you say.” At that Sai smiles, fan pointing down to the goban.

His head shifts down, sees the pale brown of the board, and then he wakes up.

He doesn’t go to school for the rest of the week.

(A mistake on his part, because halfway through the week Akari and Touya come barging into his house like they’re prepared to find his body. When they find him just laying on his bed she huffs, drags him downstairs and forces him to eat something while Touya makes an absolutely awful attempt at small talk.

‘How’s it going?’ ‘School okay?’ ‘Do you think you want to play a game?’

Terrible, but it does give him an idea.)

He keeps having the dream and he keeps waking up before he can see the board.

An awkward conversation with Mitani, where he’d spent the entire time staring at him like he could see right through him, finds him back at the same Internet Café he had visted what felt like so long ago. Even if the last time he was here was just a mere two months ago.

Mitani’s sister greets him as he enters, pushing him into an empty computer and then walking away to attend to other customers.

He could not play anymore, wouldn’t play anymore, but that didn’t mean Sai shouldn’t. He was sure that was what the Sai in his dreams was telling him to do. He was no where near good enough to take Sai’s place, he could never be a replacement, but he could stand in, place the pieces for him like he should’ve in the first place until Sai came back.

He had some confidence in this plan, he had played plenty of game’s against Sai, had watched even more, and reviewed his Kifu compilation from Torajirou’s time like they were something holy. If anyone could do this, it was him.

So he starts a new account, he can’t sully Sai’s account with possible losses or messy games, he can’t touch it until he’s sure. So he starts slow, like actually slow, his games take forever because he agonizes forever on each move, referencing past games, their games, for the perfect move Sai would make.

It takes time but he starts moving faster, starts winning against stronger and stronger opponents. He plays someone who plays better than anyone he ever faced during the Pro Exam and wins so soundly that the other player resigns well before end game, hell, barely into the middle game. He stares at the game, at the places of the stones and thinks Sai could have done better, but this is close, close enough that no one but him will ever tell the difference, and that’s a start.

The next day he logs into Sai’s account for the first time in weeks, hands typing the familiar user and password with ease. He gets a request almost immediately, the player announcing that they’ll beat an ungrateful imposter with ease.

The words curdle in his stomach, he knows he’s an imposter, but it’s all he can offer, and he definitely won’t lose.

He wins the match easily, and then the next, and the one after that, and the one after that. Pretty soon he finds himself drowning in match requests once again and it makes him smile, Sai exists here, if no where else, and he’ll make sure no one ever forgets.

(The forums cry at sai’s revival, carefully saving each of his games so should he disappear again nothing will be lost.

Blissfully unaware, he keeps playing games, hoping each one will make Sai a bit happier, a bit closer to coming back.)

Shinichiro taps the table impatiently, trust Waya to be late to their first meeting since he came back from China. Though he supposes the other might still be miffed he decided to stay a few weeks longer after his two months were up.

He eats a fry absently and takes a sip of his drink, almost choking on it when Waya’s loud voice floats over to him.

“Would you shut up?” Waya yells into his phone, stomping over to him, and he really does look a lot like Le Ping, waving his arm around angrily. Though with the frustrated air he’s walking in he doesn’t think today is the best time to bring it up. “Yes, I already said I’d tell him, no don’t you dare come meet us you weirdo.” He pauses, staring at his phone like it just attacked him. “Bastard hung up on me, I swear to God.”

“New friend?” He asks purposefully casually, stifling a laugh when Waya sends him an offended look.

“You wouldn’t believe me.” Waya huffs, drooping onto the table and stealing one of his fries, which was to no surprise, and the reason he’d bought the larger size in the first place. “Anyways, you said you had something you wanted to ask me?”

“No small talk first? We haven’t seen each other in months.”

Waya groans, waving a hand in his direction, “We can do that later, I know what you wanna ask and I just want to get it over with.”

“Oh? And what do I want to ask you about?”

“Shindou right? About why he wasn’t listed in any of the match ups.”

He blinks, he hadn’t expected Waya to be that perceptive. “Exactly that actually.”

“Don’t look so surprised! I can be smart and intuitive, figure stuff out entirely on my own.” Waya says, the words of someone who did not figure that out on his own, but who would Waya tell about their conversation.

“Sure you can,” Shinichiro says dryly, “now are you going to explain or not?”

“He’s on extended leave for three months, it should actually be coming to an end soon if I got the timing right.”

“Is he alright?” He asks and feels unease settle in him when Waya purses his lips, looking unsure.

“Sort of?” Waya says at length, looking like he’s debating saying a whole slew of things on top of that.

“He either is or isn’t Waya, it’s not that hard a question.”

“You’d be surprised.” Waya mutters, stealing another fry, but before he can press him on that a shadow passes over their table and Waya chokes. “I said you didn’t have to come do you not know how to listen?”

“I thought you could use my support.” A voice Shinichiro vaguely recognizes calls and he looks up to see Touya Akira.

He had expected to miss some things during his absence, Waya apparently being on casual speaking terms with rising star child of the Go World, Touya Akira, was not one of them.

“Isumi-san, hello.” Touya says, nodding politely at him and then taking a seat beside Waya who has stopped looking confused and switched to undisguised rage.

“Don’t just sit here.” Waya scowls, but the way Touya perfectly ignores him gives way to a tired and understood routine. Odd, and curious, he can’t think of any reason they’d ever speak to each other. Waya had hated him with a passion and aside from being pros the only thing they had in common was… was Shindou. Who was apparently okay but not, and Touya was definitely the reason Waya had known what Shinichiro wanted to ask him.

“So you’re friends now?” He asks, if only to laugh at the way Waya bristles.

“Absolutely not.” Waya asserts, but Touya looks pensive.

“I think we are.” He says after a beat.

“I hate you.” Waya says carefully and Touya nods.

“Shindou tells me that all the time but you’re the one who said we were friends.”

“That’s totally different.” Waya says, looking at him for support.

“It’s nice to see you letting go of old grudges, Waya.” He says instead.

“I hate all of you.” Waya declares, stealing the rest of his fries with a swipe.

“Anyways,” he says, ignoring Waya’s ploy at pity, “I was really hoping to play Shindou before I went into the Pro Exam again, I need to… I need to set things right.” That near cheat still haunted him even now, the weakness he had allowed himself to show.

And sure, the comments a bit more personal than he usually allows but it’s no reason for Waya to be looking at him with horrified eyes, even Touya’s brows are pinched in concern.

“Don’t say things like that.” Waya threatens.

“What?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, if it’s that weird shit that happened after your match with him during the exams or not, but please don’t say stuff like that. I can’t deal with two of ‘em. I’m not strong enough.” Waya laments, half annoyed and half pleading.

“I’m… I’m not sure I follow?”

“Isumi-san,” Touya interrupts, “I’m not aware of what Waya-kun speaks of but if it’s a match with Shindou you are looking for you aren’t going to get it, or at the very least it’s not that likely.”

“He hasn’t been playing,” Waya continues, “Like at all I mean, refuses to play anyone and he gets all stressed and sad when you insist on a game. He’s run from me four times, four.”

“I think he’s been playing NetGo recently, actually.” Touya comments absently, shoulders stiffening instantly after like he hadn’t meant to say that.

It’s interesting to watch Waya turn so fast it makes his own neck ache. “Really? What gives you that idea? What’s his username?”

It’s just as interesting to watch usually perfectly composed Touya squirm uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t know, it was just a guess.”

“Liar,” Waya spits, “Whatever, if your guess is right that’s great news.”

“Ah, speaking of NetGo, sai has been seen again right? Yang Hai was pretty happy about it.” He interjects, hoping a change of topic will clear the mood (while Shinichiro had never been that interested in the online platform he knew Waya did, and how much he’d admired the unknown player), and it does –to an extent. Waya instantly hooks on to the topic but Shinichiro can’t stop the way his gaze falls onto Touya instead. Steadfastly silent during the whole discussion, lips pursed like he has something he wants to say but won’t let escape.

The conversation winds down from there and eventually Waya stands excusing himself, and it’s as he leaves that Shinichiro remembers he never really did get an answer to his questions. But then Touya is still there, gazing at him with an intensity he assumed was only reserved for opponents in matches.

“This is Shindou’s address,” Touya says, sliding a piece of paper over to him, “like Waya-kun said, Shindou is currently more inclined to deny your request than anything but, trying never hurt anybody. Maybe someone new asking might shock him into accepting.”

“Do you… I mean… what happened?” He asks and Touya scowls, looking as annoyed as Waya on a bad day.

“I don’t know, no one seems to, he was fine one day and then the next he… he simply wasn’t. From what I gather Shindou lost someone, and he blames himself heavily for the loss. Someone close enough to Shindou’s Go that he finds the very idea of playing it an issue.”

“That sounds like a teacher, or a mentor. But no one taught Shindou how to play Go.”

Touya gives him a strange smile at that. “That is what people say.” He replies cryptically, and then barrels forward without letting him question it, “You should go, if anything it’s still good for him to see people care.”

“You’re a good friend.” He says bluntly, because as rude as it was he had not imagined Touya Akira to be the caring type. The smile the statement gets him says he knows that just as well as Shinichiro does, however.

“I’m trying, I don’t think I’m very good at this, it’s very… new. But if I want to fight Shindou as my rival, then I must first get him on his feet as his friend.” He says, inclining his head, “Thank you for your time, Isumi-san, I hope things go well for you.”

Shinichiro sits there for a long moment after, not sure what to think. He’s definitely visiting Shindou, if anything, he desperately wants that rematch.

And maybe it’s weighed on Shindou enough to make him want to play him as well.

He had been nervous, ringing the door to Shindou’s home but his mother greets him with a friendly smile, all but pushing him up the stairs. “My son has some thoughtful friends, visiting him all the time. Are you a Go Player too? I don’t know where else he’d meet such a responsible looking young man.”

He’s been left alone in the room before he even has time to process what happened, left only with the call of Shindou’s mother that her son should be home soon and to make himself at home.

Feeling slightly bereft he looks around the room, in the corner is a goban, dusty from lack of use, and the rest of the room looks drowned in chaos. School textbooks and various history books litter the floor, and in a corner desk a stack of what looks like calligraphy rests precariously. Interestingly enough, Shinichiro notes a few Kifu compilations and biographies all on Shuusaku. For someone who supposedly refuses to play, he sure is keeping on his studies.

He’s still taking in the room when the door flies open, slamming roughly against the wall. He startles, almost jumping as he turns to see Shindou gaze almost wild as it lands on him. Then he feels the almost irrational urge to apologize as his entire form deflates, gaze going terrifyingly blank.

Okay, but not okay. He kind of gets it.

“We’re fine mom, thought I heard something else.” Shindou calls, eyes not straying from Isumi’s and he notes how markedly different the other looks. Shindou’s hair, which had always ended roughly at his chin, now rests down to his shoulders, and his bangs, normally styled in an upwards slant, now hang loosely around his face, black peeking out and streaking through the normally perfectly bleached bangs. And, as he shifts to remove his bag, he catches sight of his ears, pierced with red studs.

“Are you back now? Waya-kun mentioned you had gone to train in China, I hope it went well.” Shindou says, shocking him out of his stupor and then sending him right back into a new one. Overt politeness from Shindou was almost wrong in a way, which is a thought Shinichiro never thought he would have.

“Yes it did, I was actually hoping you would play a round with me.”

“I don’t play, I’m quitting.” Shindou says with the easy confidence of someone who has repeated those words many times. It makes him wonder just how often Waya and Touya badger him to play.

“So I’ve heard,” he counters, just as easy, “but I am asking you to play for me. Our last game ended with my resignation, but I had considered letting it slide, hoping you did not notice. It was shameful, it is.. it’s not something I’m proud of in the least and before I go into the exam again I. I really need this Shindou.”

“I regret that match too.” Shindou says after a moment, looking at the floor. “I noticed, and I was debating saying something, I could have still won maybe, but it would be so much easier that way. I wanted the cop out because I didn’t think I was good enough to beat you.” Shindou laughs at that, but there is nothing mirthful in it, “I should have figured it out then, I was never good enough, and I was fooling myself for thinking otherwise.”

Unsettling, Shinichiro thinks, so much about Shindou is somewhat unsettling and heavy. He carries a grief and sadness around so heavy it’s a wonder he even gets up at all.

He lost someone, Touya had said, he blames himself. It was easy to see, when you knew what to look for, in the tired set of his shoulder, the casual self-deprecating comments. He didn’t see himself as worthy, and worse, Shinichiro thought, looking at a boy who was nigh unrecognizable from the one he used to know, he thought someone else was. At least, Shinichiro thinks Shindou does.

That is what people say.

If Shindou did have a master, it would explain so much, but something tells him that he wouldn’t get a straight answer to that question.

“I understand if you don’t want to play me, but if you did I’d really appreciate it.”

Shindou stares at him for a long while, like he can’t quite believe him. He stares at him for long enough that he thinks he may as well give up, maybe try again another day. But then Shindou stands, walking over to the goban and dusting it off with great care before placing it between them.

“I don’t play anymore.” Shindou says as sits across from him, already seated in a proper seiza, goke placed neatly on the board. “So we can play, but you can’t play me.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“That’s fine,” Shindou says, placing two pieces on the board. “Nigiri.”

“Onegaishimasu” He says, once the colours have been decided.

“Onegaishimasu.” Shindou replies in kind, and when he straightens from his bow there is a fierce and pointed look in his eyes. A fiery presence that makes him realize was sorely lacking before, and makes Shindou seem all the more empty in retrospect.

He plays well, he knows he is, he can read further into the game now, and while nowhere near as tricky as Shindou was known to be he is also neither the tied down traditional player he had been before. That kind of playing only got him so far back in China and it had forced him to do better.

So he knows for a fact he’s improved, so how is Shindou, who claims to have sworn off the game, beating him so soundly. Shindou plays like he has already thought of every move Shinichiro could possibly play and has struck it down. What had started as a fairly equal game is quickly and surely turning in Shindou’s favour and he fails to see what he could possibly do to turn it around. Shindou’s strength is beyond impressive and yet feels so alien and wrong in Shindou’s hands. He can see hints of the boy he played in his insei games but they are but drops in a sea compared to the strange and overpowering moves he now wields. Shinichiro holds on for a couple hands longer than he probably should have, whether looking for a way to turn it around or simply try to further understand Shindou’s strange new strength is unclear to even him.

“I resign.” He inevitably says and frowns at the way Shindou shows neither joy nor pride at the victory.

“Thank you for the game.” He says eventually, but his eyes don’t stray from the board.

“Thank you for the game.” Shinichiro replies in kind, gaze trained firmly on Shindou, trying to understand something from his non-expression.

The silence stretches for what must be no more than few minutes but feel like hours to him, an unnamed pressure filling the room.

“That was… different.” He says to break the silence, unsure how to phrase ‘you don’t play like that’ in a way that isn’t rude. People’s styles change, they develop, but at their core they remain the same. Shinichiro may learn to take a risk now and again but at his core he will always be a careful and precise player. This is… Shindou’s game is not that. And it’s odd, because he shouldn’t feel that way, there is definitely hints of Shindou in this game, and yet it feels so wrong as he looks at the goban. A constellation of black and white that doesn’t give him the invigorating feeling of a game well played as it usually does.

Shinichiro had wanted this game to clear the air between them, for him, before his next attempt at the Pro Exam. Instead he feels even more uneasy than before, in a completely different way for completely different reasons.

At least he didn’t attempt to cheat this time.

“You’ve gotten better Isumi-san.” Shindou says, and where before he would have expected joy from the statement, coupled with an undercurrent of ‘I won’t let you beat me’, the statement falls flat. He says it calmly, like a simple statement of fact.

“So have you.” He replies, just to see what kind of reaction that would get.

Shindou’s face contorts, looking almost green at the casual compliment, and it is with a grim countenance that Shinichiro notes he is not surprised at all by the reaction.

“I told you, you weren’t going to play me.” Shindou whispers, and even that cannot hide the shaky tone of the words.

“It’s just me and you in this room, Shindou. Who else could it have been?” He challenges and tries not to feel cruel for it.

His hand twitches, grabbing and letting go of the fabric of his shirt in quick aborted movements. His gaze shoots to his with a panicked expression before falling back to the goban and resting there.

“Someone who deserves it.” He says carefully, in a tone that makes Shinichiro shiver.

That is what people say. He hears again, and thinks that Touya might understand more about what is going on here than he’s said. Thinks that he deliberately phrased it that way, wanted Shinichiro to think about it.

It’s an odd vote of confidence from a boy Shinichiro isn’t even sure he’s ever spoken to. Is it just because he’s older? He is the eldest amongst the insei, old enough that he isn’t even one of them anymore.

“You deserve it.” He says, pushing the train of thoughts away for now. “I’ve watched you improve Shindou, you’re a good player, you’re a great player and you could keep improving if you’d just keep playing.”

Shindou shakes his head and he thinks that the only thing keeping him from covering his ears like a child is the fact it would be rude.

“I think you should leave.” Shindou says, again carefully, like if he does not pronounce each word with care it will all fall apart. Waya had said Shindou had run away from before, he had found the idea weird before, but he can see it now. He’s pretty sure the only reason he hasn’t is because he’s in his own home.

“Alright,” He agrees, Shinichiro had pushed because it was something he wanted to understand, but he won’t be cruel, “Thank you again for the game.”

Shindou nods absently, already taking apart the game, piece by piece, starting with Shinchiro’s pieces.

He won’t be cruel, but Shindou needs a push.

“You’re alive Shindou, and destroying yourself won’t change that, or bring someone back.”

Again, Shindou’s eyes dart to him but this time instead of panicked he looks so gut wrenchingly pained. “It might.” He breathes, so soft and so hopeful it leaves him breathless.

What do you even respond to something like that?

He stands at the door, hand loosely held around the doorknob and he doesn’t want to go. Doesn’t want to leave on this note. But what can he say?

“Shindou,” He says, and this time he does not look up, still slowly putting away the game, but his head twitches slightly so the other is at least listening, “I’m going to take the Pro Exam, I’m going to pass, to win, that’s a promise. And when I do, I hope that you’ll be there, we can have a proper rematch on an official stage.”

A long beat of silence and then, finally, “Good luck Isumi-san, but I know you won’t need it.”

Shinichiro leaves, and despite everything, feels somewhat hopeful that Shindou had ignored his implied request.

After all, avoidance is not denial. Not saying yes, is different than saying no.

And that’s better than nothing.

He hates how unsettled he feels in the wake of Isumi’s visit, the way his hands shake when he tries to lift a brush, or how his attention can’t seem to focus on anything he tries to read. Worst of all was the one game he had tried to play on NetGo the next day, he had gotten a few hands in before his mind had just blanked, the entire game fading away, moves he had had planned slipping through his fingers like sand and he stares at the ticking timer almost hypnotized.

He couldn’t… he couldn’t lose Sai wouldn’t lose but Sai also wouldn’t panic so terribly in the middle of the game because Sai was good and right where Hikaru was bad and terrible. He couldn’t lose, couldn’t resign but couldn’t make himself play either.

In a fit of panic he had turned the computer off, pushing so far off the table after that his chair flipped and he had fallen over in a pile. Mitani’s sister had stomped over, presumably to yell at him and he had wanted to apologize but he couldn’t get any words out through the lump in his throat and the buzzing in his ears. Except she had reached him, eyes narrowed and shoulders hunched high, taken one look at him and then simply deflated.

He hadn’t understood but she had helped him up slowly, pushed him into one of the stools along the counter and made him drink a cup of juice. He had sat there in a daze until suddenly Mitani was there, expressionless as ever, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him all the way home.

He had followed blindly, the world still blurry around the edges, and too bemused by Mitani’s sudden appearance to really argue.

“Talk to someone.” Mitani had said flatly, once they’d arrived at his home. “I’m supposed to be hating you, not feeling sorry for you.”

“I’m fine.” He had replied, slightly annoyed by the insistence in words and glances that he wasn’t.

Mitani had scoffed, “Yeah, and pigs can fly.” He said, then kicked his foot out, “Listen, people care about you, and if you won’t care about yourself, then at least let them do it for you.”

Then Mitani left, leaving him on his doorstep with eyes aching from unshed tears.

That had been three days ago and he hadn’t been back to the Internet Café since. He was still going to school, because he learned the hard way they took any extended absence from him as an excuse to invade his home.

He was starting to feel more than a little restless.

“Hikaru,” His father’s voice called from downstairs and he flinched, “come down for dinner.”

“Coming!” He called back after taking a moment to collect himself.

And that was another thing he had noticed recently, he didn’t like hearing his own name called. And with that revelation came the fact that maybe he hadn’t noticed it but that didn’t mean other’s hadn’t.

Over the past 4 months his dad had been pretty absent, a series of long days coupled with extended business trips meant that he had mostly seen his dad in passing, and when he did he was so tired he did little more than rustle his hair before heading off to bed. It was normal, and he hadn’t thought much of it until a few days ago when his father’s workplace had finally settled and he could afford to come home at reasonable hours again.

It had been great news until his dad had looked at him over the dinner table and asked “So Hikaru, how’s school been?” And he had felt the irrational urge to throw up. His mother had looked at him like she understood and had easily let him excuse himself for bed and that was somehow more confusing than the feeling itself.

Then he’d thought about it and realized he couldn’t remember the last time his mother had called him by his name and hadn’t said ‘dear’ or ‘sweetie’, even when talking to others he distinctly remembered hearing her use words like ‘my son’ and ‘that boy of mine’ any time he was around. And when he thought about that realized he couldn’t remember Akari saying it recently either. It was an uncomfortable thing to realise, that people had adjusted themselves around something he hadn’t even realized was an issue.

“Hikaru?” His father called again, and he shook off both the discomfort and idleness with the same motion. His father, who had not been home as of late did not afford him the same courtesy but that was normal. What kind of person felt like they were being stabbed when their name was called, it’s not like he had ever disliked it.

“Sorry,” he called back absently, “homework.”

It bothered him, A lot of things bothered him lately, but it bothered him that the last time he could remember being happy at hearing his name was when Sai would say it. Sai was not the first person to say it, he had not been the last, but for two and half years he had gotten used to hearing his name be called by that voice in every way imaginable. Around him 24/7 he still sometimes found himself looking over his shoulder, waiting to hear Sai call his name in reprimand, with praise, just to hear him say it at all.

It hurt to know he wouldn’t hear it anymore, it somehow hurt more to hear someone else say it now. And for the first time, he though about himself, about how he felt, and thought it was weird.

And that didn’t help at all, just left him feeling bereft. With everything else, it made him feel like he was drowning –and that feeling was terrifyingly fitting.

Sai had drowned himself; wouldn’t it be just right for his failure of a pupil to go the same way.

(He thinks of the feeling building in his chest, of the weight he feels pressed on his back. Thinks of his mother’s steady concern and support and Isumi’s quiet challenge. Thinks of Akari and Touya and Waya hovering around trying to cheer him up even when he insists he doesn’t need it.

He thinks of Mitani’s blunt words and thinks maybe he does need help. But he doesn’t know how to do that. Because getting help seems like letting Sai go and he isn’t ready for that.

He’d rather let himself drown than do that.

And at the end of the day, it’s all he really cares about.)

Akari thought she lost her best friend the day he fainted in his grandfather’s storehouse and then became practically obsessed with a game he had never shown a lick of interest in before. He was still there, still spoke to her, still hung out with her, but that time seemed to grow smaller and smaller as he spent time trying to learn it, to improve. She had tried learning, just to keep up, and it helped but the gap had kept widening even though he still stopped to drag her along every once in a while.

She thinks if she could go back in time to the her that first started thinking that, she’d shake her silly and tell her she didn’t know anything about anything. Because Hikaru spent more time around her now than ever in these past 3 years, and he had never felt farther away than he did now.

And it was a terrifying thing to feel like you were losing someone who was still right there beside you when you didn’t know where they were going. At least before Akari had known where to follow, nowadays she was just hoping she could cling hard enough that he wouldn’t disappear.

At the very least, she wasn’t alone in this, because support was always a comforting thing. If only she could get Hikaru to realize the same thing.

It’s hard to watch the loud obnoxious boy she had befriended curl in up on himself. To shy away from everything like letting the world he was alive and cared was somehow a crime. He had picked up new hobbies but whenever she saw him practicing she didn’t think he looked happy, not at all. More so he reminded him of her mother when she was neck deep in a project that had been pressed onto her by someone else and the deadline was fast approaching. When doing something was a necessity and not because of any kind of joy.

She remembered when adults would say Hikaru could stand to be a bit more polite, a bit more focused. She wonders if they would see him now and see an improvement, because all she sees is someone distinctly unhappy with life and she’d never wanted to see that in her best friend.

She hadn’t known what happened, but she remembered the change. It had angered at her first, he had seemed almost blasé about the whole thing, but then the days kept passing and he only seemed worse. He spent all his time holed up on the library, switching between studying furiously and staring blankly at nothing. Akari wasn’t blind, but what was she supposed to do when anytime she tried asking him about it he gave her a smile she wanted to smack off his face and insisted he was fine.

You can’t help people who don’t want help, her father had told her once, when she’d gotten in trouble for starting an argument with a classmate she was just trying to help with an assignment. In theory she understood that, in practice it was a lot harder to watch someone you cared about look so sad and do absolutely nothing.

So she waited, invited him down to the club every day even though he always looked terrified by the offer, waited for him to finish up in the library so they could walk home together –even though lately he had been getting better at escaping her. She’d come down to his classroom during lunch breaks and loudly read Go Weekly at Kaneko would raise a bemused eyebrow at her as she ate her lunch, Mitani slouched over the combined tables as Kaneko explained something to him. She wasn’t sure if he was listening, staring out the window most days, but she read it loud enough that the other people in the room glared at her so she was being loud enough at least.

She isn’t sure if any of the little things she tried helped in any way, but she had to because she just couldn’t do nothing if her friend was suffering.

It was like a light at the end of the tunnel when Touya had appeared after weeks of failure. She didn’t know much about him, but he knew Hikaru, and he knew about Go, and if there was one thing Akari was sure of was that this was about Go. After all, what else could make Hikaru sad that she and his mother would have no idea about. So if Akari couldn’t do much in that regard maybe he could. He’s definitely picked good friends at his work, Akari thinks, as she watches him agree to her ploy that he’s definitely already seen through.

She’s not sure how much he helps, but she does get to see Hikaru get angry again, which she counts as a victory. Anger is much better than the polite placidness he’d been holding up. And over time she watches with great joy as they manage to drag Hikaru from his eternal post in the library to join them in the clubroom. He doesn’t participate, stays holed up in the corner doing the same thing he would be doing in the library, but she still tallies it as another victory. Touya also eventually brings with him another Go Professional, a boy named Waya who tends toward the loud rambunctiousness that was once characteristic of Hikaru. It’s almost funny watching him instead be almost confused by the others incessant energy, and it definitely is funny watching Hikaru run away from him.

Waya comes by less often than Touya, who has upped their ‘whenever you can’ agreement to two or three times a week if his schedule allows for it. She thinks it might be because Waya seems to despise his very existence, even if Akari notes with mild amusement that the two of them converse quite easily when the topic of discussion is Hikaru. And the two of them do help, if only because having people other than her constantly bugging him seems to be more than he can handle.

On her more vindictive days, she can’t help but feel glad about that.

Still, nevertheless, as the days go by she thinks – she hopes – they are making some positive change. Hikaru may be getting deeper into his weird new habits, might be growing out his hair and apparently piercing his ears but compared to those first few weeks at least he was talking to them. Even if sometimes when he spoke Akari got the weird and overpowering urge to punch him.

If there’s one thing you don’t ever think will happen, is missing your friend call you things like stupid and annoying. But Akari does, and whenever Hikaru stops being sad and weird and polite she’s going to kick him hard for making her think about all this stuff. She’d rather never have considered it at all, thank you very much.

But they had been doing so well, at least she thought they were, so suddenly being kicked back to square one felt like a kick in the chest. It was worse than that even, Hikaru looked exhausted these days, walking around with bags under his eyes, ambling around slowly as he dragged his feet. He walked around like a ghost, and with his hair growing longer and the bleach in his hair slowly being outgrown by black as he failed to maintain it, she’d heard a whisper or two about the school being haunted. She wondered if most school mysteries started from sad kids just trying to get by –considering how many of them were about kids who committed suicide or were killed, probably an unfair amount. Great. More things she’d rather not think about, great job Hikaru.

Ghostly rumours aside, Akari had the very real concern that was found at the source of those whispers. She didn’t know what had changed but it worse than going back to step one, he looked like he’d dug himself deeper into a hole from where beside he had at least been able to see over the edge. At least before he’d seemed like he wanted whatever was happening, nowadays he was so tired he looked like he was just going through the motions. And sometimes when she tries speaking to him he looked at her like he hadn’t heard a single word she said, sometimes Hikaru looks around like he wasn’t quite sure where he was.

Akari had been worried before, she felt slightly terrified now. A feeling both assuaged and strengthened when the next time Touya visited since the change he taken one look at Hikaru (who had retreated back into his holed up spot in the library) and immediately left.

Two days later a boy who looked old enough to be out of high school met her at the entrance of the school on her way home and bowed far too deeply as he apologized. She had flushed scrambling to get him to stand up straight, heavily aware of the eyes piercing into her back as they walked by. She did not need rumours of her being seen with a strange older boy looking like he was pleading with her. If it somehow got back home she’d die from embarrassment.

“Listen, please, can you stop, I don’t even know you.” She had rushed, wondering whether running away was an option, she shouldn’t have let Mitani convince her he could take Hikaru home at least then she’d still be at school.

“Fujisaki Akari, right?” The weird, nice looking man had said. “Sorry, I should have introduced myself first, Isumi Shinichiro, Touya wanted me to talk to you.” She recognized the name in a vague kind of way, from Hikaru way back when and more recently from Waya, she thinks she remembers him mentioning a friend who was currently in China.

“Touya asked you?” She asked, thoughts drifting to the way he had practically stomped out of the room after taking a look at Hikaru. Her eyes had narrowed. “What did you do to him?”

“Ah, you’re sharp.” Isumi had said, scratching at his chin. “I apologize for the worry I have caused, but I am not sorry for it.”

“What! Have you. Have you seen him? He’s –he’s,” The words died in her throat, arms flailing uselessly.

Isumi had sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder, lips twisting in displeasure. “You’re all so young,” he had said heavily, shaking his head, “but it’s not like I’m that much older myself. I don’t know what’s going on with Shindou, I don’t think any of us do, but I do know that was going on wasn’t good for him.”

“He was getting better.” She had argued weakly and in response got a wry smile.

“Was he?” He had asked and before she could reply continued, “Would it be fast enough?”

The words felt like ice down her back and she had suddenly felt like crying. “I don’t know what to do, I keep trying but it never seems like enough.”

“You know this isn’t your responsibility right?” He had said so softly and she kind of felt like kicking him, anger and frustration outweighing the helplessness his earlier words had made her feel. She wasn’t fragile, and she wouldn’t let someone treat her like like she was. Akari knew full well this wasn’t her responsibility but she had chosen to do it anyway because that was what friends did.

She wanted to kick him, so she did, it was deeply satisfying to see the look of surprise on his face before it pinched in pain as he hopped slightly, leaning away from her.

“Hikaru’s my friend and that’s reason enough, now you tell me what made you think was so important you made him like that.”

“It’s a good thing,” he said, still wincing, “at least I hope so.”

“What part of this is good?”

“The way Shindou was acting wasn’t healthy, it couldn’t last, I think he understands that now.”

“And so now he’s more sad?”

“People get worse before they get better.” Isumi had replied, sounding like something straight out of a fortune cookie, and she pondered whether kicking him again would be worth it.

“Well you better hope you’re right.” She had said, words coming out more confident than she felt. “Because if you aren’t well, well I’m going to blame you for whatever happens.” Which was cruel maybe, but Akari was 14 and allowed to be angry and petty if she wanted to be.

“I understand, but I really do hope it doesn’t come to that.” He had said, nodding politely, before excusing himself.

Akari wished Hikaru’s go friends were easier to hate, they were all weird and sometimes annoying, but they were all also nice. And they all also clearly cared about Hikaru, and she could never really hate them because of that, after all she did too.

That had been almost a week ago, and no matter what Isumi said Akari had trouble seeing this as better in any way whatsoever. She’d found herself more often than not dragging him to school in the morning, not because he wasn’t leaving but because he seemed to keep falling asleep on the way there. She’d found him curled up by a tree in the park, leaning against walls or poles, and in one case somehow managing to fall asleep standing up. He’d woken up from that last one pretty quick. He let her drag him to the Club Room but only because he didn’t seem to have the energy to fight her on it.

She had thought him disappearing when this whole thing had first started happening but he seemed like a shadow some days no. She had no idea what to do, so she had settled for acting like nothing was wrong talking to Hikaru every day like she usually would, picking up the parts of the conversation he let drop.

She thought it was one of the better reactions, considering Touya and Kaneko tended to just stare at him and sit in silence, Touya with much more passion than she thought passive sitting should allow for, the rest of the Go Club doing their best to ignore him, and whenever Waya showed up tended to talk a mile a minute at him as if he couldn’t stand for a second of silence, and Isumi, presumably because of his age, never showed his face during club hours –she was unproportionally happy with that. Strangely enough Mitani interacted well enough with him, lately he’s started sitting quietly by him, goban in hand, recreating a game slowly. Mitani would make idle comments about the game, but nothing that ever seemed to want for a reply. And Hikaru… Hikaru strangely enough let him. Sometimes he’d read a book by him, or work on his homework, and Hikaru never said a word but sometimes she would look and see him trying to get a look at whatever Mitani was doing.

It was an uplifting sight, and she almost let out a cheer the first time Hikaru came to the club all on his own, sat himself on the side of an ongoing game between Mitani and Kaneko and stayed their for the whole time even as the opponents switched and moved around. Considering that at the start of this he acted like he couldn’t even look at the game it was a huge improvement. He kept doing it too, not every day, but often it enough that it hadn’t been a coincidence.

Though she supposed they were all being a bit too optimistic the day they let Hikaru’s absentmindedness give them a chance to set up a goban in front of him with Touya on the opposing side. When Hikaru had clued back into them he took one look at the situation in front of him and looked like he was stressed enough to cry. Still, he had raised a hand to grab one of the gokes, placing a piece on a star point. Touya, usually so set on doing things properly had said nothing and played a piece in response. The game ended there, Hikaru pushing away from the table and leaving the room running, but in the silence he left behind she couldn’t help but feel anything other than excitement.

From the look on Touya’s face, he agreed too.

A couple days after that the two of them were walking home, the day having gone by pretty much normal –or what normal ran for, as of late. She thought that the weirdest thing about today was that Hikaru actually looked like he had slept for once, even though exhaustion still seemed to line his every feature, feet dragging as they slowly made their way home.

Still Akari thought it was a good day, at the club today Hikaru had commandeered a goban, recreated a game no one in the club recognised, and had quietly stared at it the whole duration of the club. It was the first time he’d touched a Go stone since their failed attempt at getting him to play Touya, and it was absolutely the first time she’d seen him willingly touch pieces since everything happened. Waya told her that Isumi had played him, but she liked to think that game didn’t count, and for no reason other than she wanted it to be true, thought Hikaru might agree with her.

She didn’t know the significance of that game he had recreated, and wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or annoyed that it was a day Touya wasn’t there. After all, maybe he would have known what the game was about, or maybe Hikaru needed that time to himself. She didn’t know which was the better outcome, but she had snapped a picture of it and she’d show it to him the next time he came by.

For now… today was going well, maybe she could give it a shot again.

“Hey.” she called, careful as always to refrain from saying his name. She had absolutely no idea what that one was about, but she’d refrain from being the one to cause him anymore suffering.

Hikaru turned to look at her after a pause, head tilted in confusion.

“How are you doing?”

And Hikaru surprised her by replying; “Terrible.” Though clearly not as surprised as him because his eyes widened like he couldn’t believe the words had actually left his mouth. He looked ready to bolt and Akari reached out to grab his arm, this was more than she had ever gotten from him before, there was no way she was letting him go now.

“Really?” She said innocently, raising one finger to her chin, “What makes you say that?”

His gaze shifted from her to his arm, giving it one half hearted tug that Akari dutifully held strong through.

“I don’t know.” Hikaru replied and she’d be annoyed at the reply but it was clear from the expression on his face that he really didn’t. Which explained both everything and nothing all at once.

She hummed, kicking out a foot as she began to drag him alone. “Sometimes,” she began, “when something’s bothering me it helps me to talk it out. If I hear it out loud then it’s a bit easier for me to really see it.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” He said after a pause so long she had almost given up on the entire conversation.

“At the beginning?” She tried, trying very hard to keep her expression neutral. She doesn’t think it would help either of them if she let a big grin loose on her face.

“That’s… complicated,” he said softly, “but probably right.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she let the statement fall as they continued their walk home hand still firmly wrapped his forearm. He felt very much real underneath her palm and it was a comfort to the near constant irrational fear she had that he would just suddenly vanish.

“Hey,” she said again after a bit.

“Yeah?” Hikaru replied and if anyone called her lame for getting excited of a simple one word response well then they should live with this shade of a person for 5 months and try not to feel excited at the first glimpse of regular conversation.

“You’ve got some really nice friends,” she said, sending a smile in his direction, “me included. And if you ever need something, we’re here for you.”

Hikaru paused, tilting his head up. “Would you believe me if I said I’d been hearing that a lot lately?”

She absolutely would. “I’d think that, like I said, you have some really nice friends.”

“Yeah… I think I’m starting to get that.”

And well that, that was one of the most uplifting things she’d heard in months.

So maybe things did get worse before they got better.

She still wouldn’t thank Isumi. Or maybe she would, but not until Hikaru was back to his regular self, or at least close to it.

Because even that would be more than enough.

“Come on, hurry up, your mother invited me over to eat and I’m starving.”

And until then, she’d be right beside him every step of the way.

He hadn’t been sleeping well recently. He had trouble falling asleep, and when he did he rarely woke up feeling rested. Which wasn’t fair, why bother sleeping at all if that’s what it was going to be like.

He’d been dreaming a lot though, it felt like every time he closed his eyes he saw the same scene, him and Sai together, a goban between them. Sai with that ever present frown that never failed to make him want to shrivel up and die. Because he had seen Sai upset and annoyed but there was something different about that solemn quiet frown and he could not bear to look away from it. As much as the expression hurt if this was the only place he could see Sai again then he would cherish it, admire it, commit it to memory every time because if he was the one person who knew Sai then he could never allow himself to forget. Every time though, Sai would wave his fan idly in front of him before pointing it down and he knew what he wanted him to see but he simply did not want to. The game that he had gotten too caught up in to the point he started neglecting him, let him disappear. What right did he have to play the game after that? It didn’t help that every dream Sai seemed to look even sadder, guilt and regret twisting inside him every time he noticed it.

He woke up from those dreams feeling like he hadn’t slept at all, so it was no surprise he felt half asleep these days. He dragged his feet through the day even though every morning he felt less and less like bothering with it. His teachers voices droned on and on, whenever lunch rolled around he’d pick at his food, and no matter how much Akari pleaded he couldn’t bring himself to enter the clubroom.

Sometimes he just wanted to scream, he was doing perfectly fine before Isumi had to come and ruin everything with a handful of words. He had been settled with what he was doing and now he sometimes found himself thinking, and he didn’t much like that at all. Thinking about how he hadn’t ever liked longer hair, and the fact he had it was as annoying as the burn in his throat when he considered cutting it. About how while calligraphy was actually kind of fun, art still felt like pulling teeth, even though he couldn’t bring himself to give up the habit. He was glad he had put off asking his mother to help him buy a flute, he couldn’t even begin to describe the feeling that thinking of that welled up in him.

Still, at some point things stopped being worth the effort in his exhaustion, and if Akari was set on dragging him to the clubroom every day he let her. As much as he hated it he liked it, liked to hear the gentle sounds of pieces clacking against the board, the murmurs of practiced platitudes and the quiet sounds of discussion post game. It came to mind that every time he came into this room since he had been too focused on doing literally anything else to notice, but now that he was too tired to do anything but sit here, he realised he missed this. Go was exciting, it was hundreds of possibilities in every match, an entirely new game every single time. When he had finally understood that the game transformed, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

He realised he missed the feel of the pieces between his fingers, of having an opponent on the other side just as ready to win as he was. He realised with distinct horror that he missed playing the game.

And he wasn’t allowed to want. Because wanting had caused Sai to disappear, and playing was only allowed if it was in Sai’s name, ignoring the fact he could not bring himself to log into the account after that last terribly failed game.

Lately he had been thinking that maybe it was okay. An idea destroyed neatly by the fact the one time he had managed to play a single piece in a game the thought of continuing it had made him feel sick and empty. A harsh chorus of selfish echoing in his ears that he could not find an argument against.

Afterall, wasn’t that always the issue, he was selfish and greedy and daring to think otherwise was recipe for disaster. If he let himself play, what hope did he have for Sai to come back, for Sai to stop fading away from just a memory to others.

He wasn’t allowed to play, he couldn’t let himself play. Or everything else he had done in his attempts to honour Sai’s memory would be for naught. And Sai deserved at least that much from him, even if he couldn’t even make the other smile, or maybe especially then.

He was dreaming again, the same dream, the only dream he seemed to have as of late. Sai was there and for once he did not want to look at him, not with what he had been thinking lately. So instead he did what he had not tried since the first time he had dreamed this, he looked down. He looked down and found the last game they had played together, a couple of hands before he had dozed off and woken up to see Sai had simply disappeared. It was Sai’s turn, and whether he had thought of his move before he had disappeared was something he would never know.

Or at least until Sai’s hand appeared, holding a piece between his fingers in an act he could never even dream of seeing, and placed a single piece in response. His hands shook and despite himself he raised his eyes to look at him. Sai’s face was half hidden behind his fan but he recognised that crinkle in his eyes, the upwards tilt of his brow. For the first time in these dreams, he was almost sure Sai was smiling.

His breath felt knocked out of him, and hands still shaking he placed a piece in response, dream fading away as he did.

As he woke it still felt like he was dreaming, the feeling of the go piece still like a solid weight in his hand, the beating of his heart still to fast, his breath a bit too short.

For the first time in a long time, he felt that maybe, just maybe, it might be alright to play. And in that same moment, realised he was far too scared to try.

And he had no idea what to do about that.

Akira was, for lack of a better word, annoyed. Almost everything in his life was straightforward, a clear path from start to finish that he understood. He liked it that way, things made sense that way.

And then there was Shindou, a frustrating enigma from the moment he had met him. A strength too powerful, too overwhelming, to be from a child his age quickly shot down by play so poor he thought he might’ve hallucinated those first two meetings. An idea only ended that despite everything, Shindou himself seemed to recognise the disparity, even if he would not explain why.

He had trouble pairing up that boy with the one he saw almost regularly nowadays. The one who was quiet, and polite, and seemed intent on disappearing into the background of every room he entered.

But he was there, saw the boy he recognised from the few meetings they had had before in flashes, in the way Fujisaki’s eyes sometimes lit up at certain things he did.

Still, as exciting as those members were until he could watch Shindou play again, it wasn’t enough. Akira could admit his faults, in the privacy of his own mind at least, and the desire was ultimately a selfish one. Shindou had declared himself his rival, and despite the terrible game he had played Akira could not help but take that statement to heart, a feeling that only grew as he watched Shindou improve from the sidelines. Shindou had been behind him, without a doubt, but he ran forward at a pace that did not let Akira stand idly by, and he hadn’t realised how much he wanted that until it was gone.

Wanting something, and knowing what to do about it were two very different things, and when it came to interpersonal skills Akira was sorely aware he was lacking. So if he couldn’t do that well, then he’d do what he could do. And what he could was observe, his observation skills were good for more than just reading into a game.

And so he did, and he thinks the most interesting thing Akira had picked up on was the existence of Sai. It started with the rumours that sai had returned to NetGo, intriguing enough that even his father had mentioned it and it led to Akira logging onto his account and heading into the forums. Sure enough, there were already threads on his games, records of Kifu kept meticulously by avid fans that Akira looked through carefully, for some reason unsettled as he looked through the games. They were well played, there was no denying that, and a style that was unmistakeably sai and yet felt distinctly different from the game he had played with him, the one he had watched his father play against sai.

Scrolling through threads and comments he had found a link to a thread where people were discussing another user who they thought may be connected to sai. It was a user Akira did not recognise, who had played a handful of games a good while after sai’s disappearance from the site and had not played again since sai had returned.

The games were odd, the player never lost but they seemed to take unnecessary amounts of time to make even the simplest of moves. They were good, and the style of play was definitely not that far off from the way sai was known to play. The comments debated an imposter, or an attempt at an A.I using sai’s games as reference, or any number of things but no one was quite sure whether this user was credible or just an untimely coincidence. They had played even less games than sai before they stopped, and had been just as quiet during those games as the legendary player.

With nothing but a few loose threads and timing tying the two players together, there wasn’t much in the way of discussion in the thread. But that was fine, it wasn’t what caught Akira’s eyes. What caught Akira’s eyes were the game times, he was right that the first few games were too long, seemingly normal moves painstakingly considered before being placed, but as the games progressed these times decreased until they put no more time into it than any other player. And those last few games, while not quite at the same level, were unmistakably similar to the sai that had returned.

Akira came to a couple of conclusions in that moment, this user and the current sai were definitely the same, this user had used the games he played on this account to practice, and, while having access to the account, was definitely not the original sai. They knew him though, such a similarity could not come from simply analyzing the recorded games they had, it spoke of a familiarity of someone who played with the actual sai regularly, who knew them. And with that revelation came an understanding of what exactly was bothering him about the games he had reviewed.

They weren’t genuine. These games were well played, and sai was undeniably a good player, but they lacked heart. He thought back to one of the comments on that thread, that had claimed the other player an A.I made to replicate the way sai played, and thought that that was an apt explanation. Each move was placed because that was where sai would be expected to go, with little input to what Akira assumed was a real person behind the computer. It came across as empty, and while it was a bit upsetting to see someone without enough talent to replicate someone so flawlessly refuse to play themselves, it did not explain the despair that the revelation seemed to bring in him.

His thoughts drifted to Shindou and he thought, well of course, who else could it be. He’d seen Shindou play as well as sai before, knew better than anyone else that there was a tangible connection between them. He had thought that this would be it, Shindou was playing, even if not as himself, and that was a sign enough that perhaps he could play again, play in person.

Of course when Akira had actually worked up the courage to ask Shindou about sai he had looked at Akira like he’d told him his mother had died and actually started to cry, broken ‘I’m sorry’s’ breaking through the cloud of tears. He had not needed the glares of both Fujisaki and the cat-eyed boy in the Go Club to know not to ever try that again.

But it did leave him back where he started.

And that was more frustrating than anything else.

He had a strange dream in the following days, there was game in front of him still in its beginning stages, barely enough hands played for him to count on both hands. It was white’s turn to play and a quick glance to his side registered a goke full of black pieces. So, not his turn. As that registered a slender hand came into view and carefully placed their piece and almost unthinkingly his hand went into the bowl to reply.

A fan swiftly came and knocked into his hand, the piece falling uselessly back into the goke, and Akira blinked in confusion. Rather than try again he lifted his head to question his opponent and…

Woke up in his bed, confused, the game he had just seen portrayed vividly in his mind.

He did not understand, and laying out the pieces on the board to review answered nothing. It was just the opening hands of a game, too early to see much of anything. He decided to ignore it, it wouldn’t have been the first time he dreamed of Go, even if this one was a bit strange even for him.

He’d have been happy to let it go, but then he kept having it, always the exact same game, replied with the exact same move, and he was never allowed to continue it.

It was annoying, but so were a bunch of things in his life right now, so it was also completely unsurprising.

Akira had an odd feeling, the same kind of feeling he got when he reaching the end of a book, the feeling of everything coming together as the characters marched determinedly to the end.

It was a feeling that had been building since Shindou had played that one hand against him and had since spent the days alternating between jump and lethargic. At least, that was the impression he got on days he managed to catch him when he visited the club, and one confirmed by Fujisaki when he had asked. She looked a bit more cheery these days, not that she had looked sad before, but there was a certain bounce to her step that hadn’t been there before. He wondered if something good had happened to her, but didn’t think they were close enough to ask about it. It was nice to see, was all. This situation was one that bothered Akira heavily, but he knew it must be worse for her. She was for all that he could tell, Shindou’s longest and closest friend.

Still, he thought it was connected, in the way her gaze sometimes fell to Shindou’s and she smiled, and it added to his feeling. It was a lot of little things, like how Waya sometimes started talking to Shindou like normal, instead of the odd quick pace he had developed around him, like he had forgotten there was something wrong. Or how Shindou, still refusing to play, spent more time around the goban than not. How he spoke a bit easier, even if was quiet and much less than he normally had. Even the cat-eyed boy (“Mitani” The boy had said flatly one day, as if he could hear the words Akira mentally called him) who always stared at Shindou with oddly intent eyes seemed to be a bit more relaxed these days.

It seemed almost exciting when Fujisaki pulled him aside one day, to show him a picture of a game Shindou had apparently recreated all on his own. It was not one he recognised, but when he put it together in his room there was an odd sense of familiarity to it. Studying it further did not reveal it’s secret, but he still took it as a good sign.

Shindou was still not okay, but given the absolute mess he had been after his game with Isumi he was much better, even more so than before that had happened. And that was worth the hope that things might finally reach an end.

He hoped it would be a happy one, he doesn’t think any of them could deal with more sadness.

He’s having that same dream again, except, except this time it’s different. The piece he normally watches white play has already been played, black’s reply present as well. It’s farther into the game than Akira has ever seen, even if it’s just one more piece. He waits patiently and sure enough white plays a hand and Akira mercilessly squashes down the urge to continue the game. He has enough memory of that fan hitting him, but that isn’t the only thing.

Even in his dream the feeling follows him, and once again he can’t help but feel that it’s connected. He stares at the board for a long moment, committing it to memory, before he raises his head, praying he does not wake.

It’s a man, a so very kind faced man that for a second Akira mistakes him as female. He’s someone that Akira has never seen, he would remember hair so strikingly long, and yet there is something familiar about him. He looks at the man up and down, trying to pin the familiarity down but it just confuses him more, he’s holding a closed fan up to his lips, looking vaguely amused, wearing an outfit straight out of a costume re-enactment of a play from Heian period. Then he realised he was staring quite blatantly and flushed, the reaction only worsening when he realised he was dreaming, and the man across the board could not judge him, or at least not anymore than he could himself.

It was startingly then, when the man laughed, or at least looked like he was because no sound reached Akira’s ears, bending forward as his elbows shook with the strain of it. He watched as the man settled himself and straightened, raising one hand to brush the hair that moved in front of his face, tucking it neatly behind his ear. It was then Akira saw it, the small dark red earrings adorning pale ears. It was like the final piece of a puzzle, loose long black hair, the pearl-like earrings, the attire that matched a time period Shindou seemed obsessed with learning about.

A goban between them, a man who held stones like he could imagine no easier or more worthwhile a task.

A man Shindou was trying desperately to emulate even at the cost of himself, a man so important to Shindou’s Go he had given it up for him, playing in his name… The shadow that Shindou had warned him about, the ghost that had led Shindou through those first two impossibly talented matches. This was inconceivable, and yet Akira had never felt more sure of something.

“Sai.” He said confidently, because there was no doubt in his mind that this was who he was.

The man grinned, an expression so pure and childlike it left Akira stunned, Sai’s mouth opened and unlike his laughter the words reached him.

‘O Kami-sama I thank you so kindly for this opportunity. I have been so selfish but I could not rest without finishing this.’

“I don’t… I’m not following.” But Sai shook his head, bringing a finger to his lips.

‘Akira-kun, if I could ask of you one thing, would you finish this game with him. Will you tell him it’s alright, that I am so very proud of him and how far he’s come.’

He nodded slowly and again Sai grinned, somehow more elated than before.

‘Thank you, oh thank you, I know you two will play such wonderful games together, and there is no greater joy than that.’

He had no response to that, and the world around him began to turn blurry around the edges, a stark difference from the usual sudden and sharp change from asleep to awake. He had a feeling he would not be back here again.

The look in Sai’s eyes was knowing, even as the details faded and everything became harder and harder to discern.

‘Would you let him know that he is loved?’ He heard, just as the dream faded away and he awoke as always, comfortably on his bed.

As he stared at the ceiling, he could not help but think that for a seemingly open seeming man, that had been such a round about and shy way, to ask Akira to tell him to Shindou that Sai had loved him.

As he got ready for the day his eyes fell upon the goban he had not yet cleared, and as if the dream had lifted some kind of veil from his eyes the answer suddenly seemed clear. The player in white was unmistakably Sai and the black player, though a bit harder to spot, was Shindou. Playing at a level he put somewhere between that first terrible match at Kaio and his match against Ochi. It was good, better than that first match, but not as good as that one, and no where near close enough to beat Sai. It was a testament to Shindou’s stubbornness that it dragged on as long as it had.

As he looked at the board, and thought of his dream, he wanted to scream a little bit that his schedule kept him busy for the entirety of this week.

It wasn’t something he wanted to wait on, but he had little choice otherwise.

He prayed that the week would at least pass quickly.

It was almost two weeks later that he finally managed to find time to go to Haze Middle School. And, as he angrily stalked his way through the school he noted with mild annoyance that he really should have let Fujisaki register her number in his phone, it would have been nice to let her know he was coming, considering he had a very specific plan in mind.

It also would have been perhaps polite to apologize for being away so long, but he had not expected for the Institute to suddenly require him for random events one after another all of the sudden. He supposed it came with being young and well known but while normally he was not one to care it was very annoying these past couple of days when he had something he would rather be doing.

Akira had a feeling he’d been annoyed more than usual lately, a thought that then annoyed him, like a snake eating its own tail.

He nearly skidded into the clubroom door, anticipation pushing at his steps as he paused, taking a breath before allowing himself in.

Fujisaki and Mitani looked up at his arrival, the other 3 present members already engrossed in a game between them. As he looked around he could find neither Kaneko or Shindou in the room.

Fujisaki, as if noticing his search, said, “Hikaru’s class got held back because of something some of the boys did, he and Kaneko are going to be a bit late.” She paused, smiling, “But welcome back Touya, it’s been awhile.”

“Ah, thank you Fujisaki-sa… Fujisaki.” He quickly corrected when her gaze sharpened, she was quite firm in him dropping the suffix, and he was inwardly glad that Shindou had never seen it appropriate to call him by his first name because he worried she might then be inclined to force the same level of casualness between them. “That works out quite well actually, I was wondering if you had a spare board you could lend me, and if you knew of an empty room I could borrow.”

“What do you want it for?” Mitani asked bluntly, and Akira refused to bow under the others unnerving stare.

“I was hoping I might be able persuade him to play a game with me.”

“Well then why can’t you do it here?” Fujisaki asked hesitantly, but her fists were clenched tight and he imagined that Isumi’s challenge still bothered her more than she cared to admit.

“I understand your hesitancy, but this is not a request I make lightly and if Shindou denies my request I won’t force him.” Akira didn’t think he would though.

Mitani stared at him, and Akira thought some days he could be a great player if he had any inclination to improve beyond the level of a casual, but good, player. He certainly had the quick, analytical eyes he saw in some of the older pros. The belligerence he always displayed did not fade but his lips quirked up and Akira thought he might actually seem approving.

“You should let him, dudes too nice to try anything bad.” He eventually said, grin turning impish as Akira scowled at him.

“Well, if you think so Mitani I guess it can’t be that terrible an idea.”

“Exactly.” Mitani had said smugly, and he failed to understand why Mitani insisted he didn’t like Shindou, not only did it seem patently untrue, they seemed like the kind of people that would get along swimmingly.

Still, with Mitani’s approval Fujisaki pondered it a bit longer before nodding, handing him one of the goban’s while Mitani rattled off instructions to a nearby room along with a promise to bring Shindou to him.

Empty classrooms always had a solemn feel to them, he supposed he could abate that feeling by turning on the lights but set up by the window it seemed unnecessary. The sunlight streaming in providing plenty of lighting for the game.

A short while later Mitani threw the door open, sliding so harshly into the wall it kicked itself back out. Mitani gave it a bored look before dragging Shindou in, placing him in front of Akira, and leaving without so much of a glance.

Another reason Akira thought Mitani might make a great go player, was that he was just as weird as every other professional he knew.

Shindou stared at him suspiciously, which was a win over looking terrified considering the goban on the table.

“Mitani-kun said you wanted to play me Touya-kun.” Shindou said evenly, hands only slightly shaking. Akira noted idly that if he got one thing out of this, it was that Shindou would stop speaking so politely. He had found the others attitude improper before, but it was a vast improvement over this –and he steadfastly ignored that he tended to speak just like this, it wasn’t weird when he did it.

“Not exactly, but only if you’re okay with it.”

Shindou surprised him by instantly replying, “I’m not. I told Mitani-kun as much.” Which was surprising, if Shindou had already said no, why was he even here. “But I’m going too anyways.”

His mouth felt dry. “Why?” He asked, but Shindou did not reply, eyes resting firmly on the board between them, arms still shaking.

“Mitani told you I wanted to play a game, that’s not exactly right,” he began, dragging both goke’s closer to himself. “What I actually wanted to do was continue a game with you.”

“Continue?” Shindou echoed faintly as he placed the first stone.

He nodded, placing another, “If you don’t want to do this, you just have to say.” He said after a moment, having for now placed the last piece, the first part that he had seen so often in his dreams. “Do you recognise this?”

There was a wide-eyed look in Shindou’s eyes, and he reached out slowly, touching the stones as if they were something precious. “Why do you…”

“I kept dreaming about this game, I didn’t know why, it didn’t seem that great, you can’t tell much from a handful of plays. Too many possibilities up in the air.” He paused, placing one more stone, a black, Shindou’s play. “Then one day black’s reply was there, when it never was before,” another stone, the final stone, Sai’s last move, “then the man, white, played again and for the first time I looked up at him.”

He heard Shindou’s breath hitch and he paused again, waiting for him to settle. “Your earrings, they’re just like his, but his hair was much nicer. I don’t think I could imagine you with hair that long.” He looked up, not surprised but still uncomfortable by the tears streaming down his face. “Sai seemed like a very nice person Shindou.”

He nodded, wordlessly grabbing the black goke. “I can play,” he said between sniffles, “or at least I can try.”

Skipping formalities, Akira nodded and waited for Shindou to make his move and when he finally did the game began in earnest. Or it did, until about sixteen hands later Akira stared at the goban, stone still in hand, and frowned putting it away.

“What?” Shindou asked hesitantly, and Akira thought he knew full well what the problem was, he said nothing however simply clearing the board until it reached that initial point.

“Start again,” Akira said.

“You can’t…” Shindou said, shaking his head, “there aren’t do-overs.”

“Just play.” He said stubbornly and Shindou did.

And they played, until again Akira stopped the game.

“Again.”

A frown as they reset.

“Again.”

A furrowed brow.

“Again.”

A bit longer this time, but still, eventually:

“Again.”

And finally Shindou snapped. It was almost satisfying, even though that hadn’t been his attention.

“What’s wrong with you Touya! These games are fine, you can’t keep stopping them unless you resign, or I resign. You said you wanted to play a game with me! Continue one, whatever.” Shindou’s eyes were bright, and he found he had missed that look quite dearly.

“Exactly.” He replied calmly, “I wanted to play you.”

“Well… you are.” Shindou said cautiously, like he could sense something coming and wanted to back away.

“You’re here, but you aren’t playing.”

“That… that doesn’t make sense.” Shindou argued, but considering the way his gaze had shifted out the window, he knew perfectly well what Akira was getting at.

“In my dream,” he said carefully but Shindou nevertheless flinched, “Sai was white, and you were black.” Shindou nodded. “You even took the black stones without me saying anything.” Again, as though it pained him, Shindou nodded. “So could you tell me why you’re playing as Sai.”

Shindou froze, hands that had idly wrapped around the goke suddenly curling around the cheaper plastic container painfully. He noted with muted horror that the rounded shape oval-ed a bit under the strain.

“How else am I supposed to play?”

“Like yourself.” He said and watched as Shindou curled in on himself as if struck. “This game was between Sai and Hikaru, and I can’t be Sai, but I’d very much like to play against Hikaru. I’ve been wanting too for awhile.”

“No one wants that.” Shindou said firmly, hands still curled around the goke. “Sai was a great player, the best player to ever be, and I… I was…”

“His student, his friend.” He interrupted before Shindou could finish the doubtlessly depressing sentence.

Shindou snorted, hands loosening, “some friend I was, I was selfish and now he’s gone.” He said roughly, spitting the words out as if they disgusted him. “So playing as him, being him, it’s… it’s all I have.”

“Do you think this has made him happy?” He asked bluntly as Shindou startled. “You care about him a great deal, I’m sure he felt the same way, would he like the way you’ve been treating yourself. Like you don’t matter?”

Shindou was quiet, eventually replying, “He was always frowning.” But it was absent, and it didn’t seem to be referring to whenever Sai was still here. He thought of his dreams, and how one day Shindou’s reply was there, and wondered if he had been dreaming too.

“People sometimes say my Go is a lot like my father’s. It’s not surprising, my father taught me, he raised me, it would have been close to impossible for me to develop an entirely different style. But it is still mine, and while the similarities are there I will never be my father, and he would never want me to be. He would want me to play my own Go.” He paused, shifting his gaze that had drifted out the window back to Shindou. “You can honour someone without becoming them. In fact it is probably a higher honour to do it while being yourself.”

“Do you think that would be okay?” Shindou asked slowly, breathing heavily like each word pained him to say.

“He told me that it was alright, that he was proud of you, I think it would be more than okay.” Shindou nodded jerkily, tears once again streaming down his cheeks.

“Okay. I’d like to try again.” He said, staring at the reset board with intense concentration.

He played his move 15 minutes later. The next 12, the one after that 7. It reminded him of the NetGo games he had reviewed. Except instead of learning how to play like Sai, Shindou was rediscovering how to play like himself. The longer the game went on the more steady Shindou’s movements became and the less he looked terrified after Akira’s replying move.

He did not know how long they sat there for, but eventually the door slid open Fujisaki’s head peaking through. “Are you guys finished yet? It’s getting kind of late.”

Shindou surprised everyone by waving his hand lazily in her direction, gaze intent upon the goban. “Go away Akari, I’m thinking.” Then he blinked, posture straightening, “I mean –”

“No!” She shouted. “You’re right, how rude of me.” She agreed, tone dripping in sarcasm. “Play to your heart’s content, but if you get in trouble don’t blame me.”

Shindou opened his mouth to argue, then snapped his mouth closed. Whether because he lost the will to argue, or had realised the same thing Akira had, was unclear to him. But Fujisaki’s arrival had made him notice that the sun had almost set, and since Akira had never bothered to turn on the light the room was almost near shrouded in darkness. The hour was definitely late, and they really should head home but…

“Do you…” Shindou says slowly, not looking at him. “Would you like to come over and finish the game?”

“Yes,” he said instantly, and decided it was the correct answer when Shindou’s shoulders loosened like he had been tensed for rejection.

“Cool.” He murmured, staring at the game intensely before beginning to clear it away.

“Let me help!” Fujisaki called from the entrance, skipping into the room. “And make sure to recreate this for me later, I really want to see it.

“You could come watch us finish it.”

Fujisaki waved her hand, “Nah, you guys enjoy your private game, I wouldn’t dare to interrupt.” Akira didn’t really get that, but Shindou seemed a bit flushed.

“Shut up, Akari” Shindou muttered and her eyes practically glittered with joy as she picked up the goban and twirled away.

“Have a good night boys!” She cheered.

“Ah, shouldn’t we walk you home?” Akira interrupted and she blinked at him, like the thought had never occurred to her.

“Oh! Thanks for worrying, but Mitani’s waiting for me at the club room, don’t even think about it.”

And then she was gone.

“Come on,” Shindou said softly, “Let’s go.”

For someone who had lost by 1.5 moku, Shindou looked ecstatic. And mentally Akira compared his current expression to his mothers when he had come home and told her Akira was here to finish a game with him. They looked almost identical, and it was perhaps the first time since Akira had met the woman he thought they looked similar.

“I lost.” Shindou said breathlessly, almost in awe. “I lost.”

“You did.” He replied, unsure.

“That felt so good.” He said, and then quietly, “I missed this. Playing online as Sai, it wasn’t the same, this was me.”

“You play like him,” Akira said, blushing under Shindou’s gaze, like Akira had handed him the stars with that phrase. “Like I said, people say I play like my father, he taught me. Sai taught you, so even your own Go, it has pieces of him in it. The Go inside your Go.”

“He liked you,” Shindou said in reply, fingers tracing the edges of the board. “He compared you to a dragon once.” He was quiet for a while, fingers tracing gently over the stones. “You always knew more than everyone else, but now you’ve seen him, someone other than me knows he existed.” Shindou took a slow, deliberate, breath. “Do you want the whole story? I think, I think Sai would want me to. And, and I think I want to too.”

Akira swallowed, hands heavy. “In my dream, he told me to tell you a few things, I told you most of them, but there was one last thing.” His eyes snuck over to Shindou’s and stayed their, the other’s attention held raptly. “He said he loved you.”

Shindou’s eyes watered, but he did not cry. “I loved him too.” He replied and then began a story that started with a boy, a storeroom, and a ghost.

The next time Akira saw Shindou after that night, was three days later, standing in front of the Go Association, hair cut short once again.

“Shindou” he greeted, eyebrow raising in amusement as Shindou jumped in surprise, raising his hands up in defense.

“Touya-kun,” He said once he’d calmed down, and then scowled like the word left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“You kept the earrings.” He noted absently, while Shindou’s hair was styled just like he remembered, rebleached bangs and all, the earrings were still there, even more apparently with his now shorter style.

“I like them,” he said with a grin, “mom says they make me look fashionable, which is kind of weird to hear from her, but whatever.”

“Are you back?” He asked, nodding his head toward the building.

“Technically my leave ended awhile ago, but they still haven’t been scheduling me.” He said, laughing awkwardly, “So yeah, I’m here to tell them they can start again.”

“Would you like some company?” He asked, attempting at casual. Shindou scowled, stamping down on his tapping foot before deflating.

“Yes I would,” He said petulantly, grabbing Akira by the hand and dragging him into the building.

And as he watched Shindou drag him firmly and confidently through the building he thought happily that his rival was finally ready to run along with him.

He’d waited months for this, and thought the result was going to be so very worth it.

That same night, after his game with Touya, he dreamed of Sai one last time. It was different, the goban was gone, and Sai was decidedly smiling this time.

“So it’s okay?” He had been unable to stop himself from saying, “It’s okay if I want to play for me?”

Sai’s smile shifted, turning softer, kinder, as he pulled him into an embrace.

‘Hikaru you could become the world’s best pro, you could play only as a hobby, or you could quit the game forever, as long as you choose it for yourself, and not for me or anyone else, I could not be happier.’

“I miss you,” he cried and to that Sai did not reply.

‘I will always be here, with you, even if not physically. Be strong Hikaru, I know you’re more than capable of it.’ He had pulled himself away, holding his fan out to him. ‘Those earrings look quite fetching on you, but if you would not mind another token…’

Hikaru took it easily, smiling up at him, an expression Sai returned in kind as the dream faded.

He woke up crying, but for once did not feel sad at all.

The following days were a mess, he had thought he could just stroll into the building and everything would go back to normal but once faced with the act Hikaru found himself unable to move forward. He grabbed Touya’s hand with little shame as he used the contact for support as he went about his business.

People had been telling him he could rely on his friends, so he would.

They were more than happy to have him back, and apparently thought it a great reward that as soon as they could manage it they’d be scheduling him for matches as often as they could. To make up for lost time, they had said kindly. He was more inclined to think of it as torture when they displayed to him a schedule that could have him playing as many as three matches a day.

“The more you play, the faster your dan level will increase.” Touya had said as they left, and that was a bit uplifting. If he wanted to catch up to Touya he wouldn’t have the luxury of slacking around.

“You’re right,” he said, tugging Touya to the left, “Come on Touya, I’ll treat you to some ramen for the support.

His first official match was with Isumi, who had apparently passed the exam with flying colours and had already had a couple of matchups since. Despite how their last few games had turned out Hikaru was grateful to have someone familiar across the board because it made his stress a bit easier to manage even as he tapped a rabbit’s beat along his leg as he waited for the match to start.

As it turned out, wanting to play, and actually playing, we’re two very distinct concepts. After months of telling himself he couldn’t, the fear lodged in his throat was unmistakeable.

Isumi thankfully said nothing about his nervousness, free hand clenched painfully around the fan he had bought from the souvenir shop.

“A real game this time?” Isumi said after an extended silence, the first words he had said since a quiet greeting.

He grinned, even if the expression felt painted across his face. “I’m gonna wreck you.” Expression becoming a bit more real at Isumi’s surprised look at the wording.

“We’ll see,” he replied with an upturned smile just as the attendant announced that the games would be beginning.

They nigiried quickly, bowing their pleasantries as the game began.

Hikaru won in a close game, and though he had won, he wasn’t anywhere near happy with the result.

“I’m sorry.” He said, staring at the arrangement of stones across the board with deep personal offense.

Isumi, who no doubt saw the reason for his unhappiness, shook his head. “People don’t change in a day, Shindou. This is nothing like the game we played that day in your room. We’re matched up again in two months, show me how much you’ve improved then.”

“I will.” he said fiercely, staring intently at the board, and though it was uncharacteristic of their sport, Isumi rose to mark himself a loss and Hikaru a win.

“Good,” he said, stretching out his legs, “Thank you for the game, next time I’ll be the victor.”

“Thank you for the game,” he parroted, before scowling, “No way! It’ll be me again, and every time after that.”

Isumi laughed, waving a goodbye as he walked away and he returned his attention back to the board.

This was a mess, he doubted most people would be able to tell, but it was. He could see every single point he had switched over to Sai’s Go instead of his own, hand after hand passing until he noticed and panicked, each time ruining his play for it. He perhaps could have won earlier if he had stuck to one style, but the switch ruined his flow and he’d scrambled to correct himself each time.

His hands curled, he couldn’t play like this in Official matches, and the only way to fix it was to practice.

On his way out Touya found him and dragged him to his fathers Go Salon, recreating his game with Isumi up until the first point he had switched his play style. Knowing what he wanted he played his next move and Touya replied continuing until he stopped, chucked a stone at him and removed his last couple of moves. The practice continued until they had finished the game, and Touya repeated the process from a different point, and then another, until each one of his slip ups had been gone through.

“I suck at this.” He grumbled and Touya flung another stone at him, landing square on his forehead. He rubbed the spot, looking up at him tearily.

“You don’t suck, you’re erasing a habit and that takes time.” Touya said, clearing the board. “And as along as you understand that, you’re doing better. Now play me, I expect my rival to do much better than this sorry display.

“Hey, fuck you! I can do way better and you know it.” He shot back, placing two stones on the goban.

“Prove it.” Touya replied smugly, gently placing a handful of stones on the counter.

A challenge he gladly accepted up until the point he messed up again and Touya swiftly removed the handful of stones and they continued without a word.

It was a work in progress, but he was definitely progressing.

This wasn’t easy Hikaru noted some days with quiet acceptance, and others with vicious frustration.

He was getting better at playing himself for whole games, but sometimes when his attention faded he slipped back, moments fewer and farther in between but still there. And while most days the knowledge that he subconsciously played as someone else first was aggravating on his more somber days the thought was disgustingly comforting. He hated himself a bit those days.

Then there was the fact that when he got nervous or startled he tended to slip into polite speech. Words leaving his mouth and then processing in his ears just in time to make him cringe in regret. On a list of weird new habits he supposes it isn’t terrible but that didn’t mean he had to like it. It helps that whenever he does it now Waya and Mitani laugh at him, Akari kicks him, and most other people just give him this weird stare like they’re expecting him to pass out in the next second.

His friends could be annoying, but they were a much welcome support on days when everything felt too much. It was nice to know there was a group of people ready to help him no matter what. Hikaru had for a very long time not had close friends outside of Akari, and now there was a whole crowd of them.

Best yet, when Sai’s disappearance weighed on him too heavily, and made the world feel gray around the edges, he actually had someone he could talk too. Someone who understood perfectly well who Sai was, and what he had meant to him.

Things we’re mostly okay now, and though he still had ways to go, considering where had been when this all started, he took the victory where he could.

Hikaru was happy, and it was a feeling he could no longer take for granted.

And, wherever Sai was now, it made him even happier to know he was happy too.

#hikaru no go #hikago #?#why did i write nearly 30k one shot for a 20 year old fandom #i literally do not understand #who will read this? 5 people? god i hope those 5 people like this #absolutely sorry for anyone who ahs to scroll through this on mobile #but it's not my fuckign fauly tumblr mobile cant respect readmores #txtbloggin #my writing

48 notes · View notes