Chapter Text
Fushou stared at his knees nervously, concentrating on his hands and keeping them from grasping the fabric of his trousers and twisting them. He had that habit when he was nervous, taking hold of something and twisting it. Usually it was fine, usually he could take hold of the hem of his shirt or jumper or the sheet or whatever fabric he had in hand, but the pants were new and he didn't want to wrinkle them. They had been expensive - at least by his standards.
'It's completely natural to feel nervous and awkward,' he mused, trying to rationalise his anxiousness to himself. 'It's an odd place, so it's no wonder. I have never been here before. The smells and the sounds are off… there are too many people… I feel like I'm being watched…'
And he was. He could see them from the corner of his eyes. Two young women by the counter where eyeing him rather noticeably while selecting their drinks. There was also a man sitting at a table nearby, looking at him over his newspaper. The woman behind the counter, who was now waiting for the young female customers to finish their choosing so that she could ring it up, was also looking at him.
Was he so out place here that people felt the need to memorise his features? Or was it something else - were his clothes off, was his hairstyle so rare here, was there perhaps some dirt on his coat - or on his face…? He hoped it wasn't the coat, he had just gotten it and he rather liked it. Maybe it had been risky getting it - it had been expensive but still he had picked the white one, and not the black. White got dirty easier and was harder to clean, so it hadn't been a wise choice, but…
Fushou frowned, trying to shake the thought from his head without actually shaking his head. He was babbling in his thoughts. A certain proof of how nervous he was. Trying to rid himself of the feeling, he reached for his teacup, only to see that it was already empty. When had he drunk it? He couldn't remember. Probably soon after getting it, when had that been? Ten minutes ago? Twenty? How long had he been sitting there?
Awkwardly, he glanced at the small cafeteria's counter, hoping that there was a clock somewhere near by it. There was, just atop the coffee maker. The hands pointed at two twenty five. Twenty five minutes then. Fushou eyed the clock for a moment. He had been dawdling for twenty five minutes in the Association cafeteria, trying to build up the nerve to do… something. Twenty five minutes of wasting time.
'I need to do something - I need to do it - before I lose my nerve completely,' he thought determinately and made a move to sit up. Before he could, however, he found a shadow being cast on the table before him, and almost jumped when he realised that the cafeteria's keeper was standing next to his table.
"Would you like another cup?" the woman asked with a kind smile.
"Ah, what? Tea, no, I'm… I'm fine," Fushou quickly stammered. "T-thank you."
The woman blinked and smiled. "Alright then," she said, picking the empty tea cup and placing it to her tray, where it joined two other empty cups. "Are you waiting for someone here, perhaps? I don't think I've seen you here before," she then said and winked. "Trust me; I'd remember if I had."
Fighting a fierce blush, Fushou collapsed in the chair and stared at the table. "I, uh… I was hoping to…" he swallowed. "To see if I could… meet someone."
"Oh?" the woman asked and, much to Fushou's utter and complete horror, sat down beside him. She smiled warmly at him while leaning her elbow on the table, and her chin on her palm. "One of the pro's? It's not uncommon, you know. We get many Go enthusiasts who come here to see their idols," she chuckled. "I keep up with the schedules of some of the most famous ones - title holders and the most popular upper dans and such - so I might know if they're here or not."
Fushou felt mortified. An… enthusiast? Him? "No, it's not, I'm not…" he trailed away as he realised that his actual reason maybe wasn't any better than being an enthusiastic Go follower. "It's…" he hesitated before frowning. "It's Shindo, Shindo Hikaru … I was hoping I could, um… meet him."
"Shindo? Shindo seventh-dan?" the woman asked and chuckled. "Hikaru of the Fan. Heh, I don't think I've ever met a Go fanatic who idolises him - you know, aside from the other pros. He oddly enough has a small following among the lower dans," she leaned forward. "I think it has something to do with the fact that he's Toya-sensei's rival and those two have been in a stalemate for years despite the fact that Toya-sensei is already a ninth-dan. Those two go back and forth between wins and losses; it's like watching a tug o' war at times!"
Fushou tried to hide the fact that he had no idea who "Toya-sensei" was or why a stalemate between him and Shindo Hikaru was important. "Do… do you know if Shindo might be here, then?" he asked hopefully.
"Hmm…" the woman thought about it, drumming her lower lip with her fingers before frowning. "I'm sorry, but I don't know. Shindo's not one of the people I keep up with, but I can check it for you," she stood up. "It won't take a minute; I'll just call upstairs and ask my friend up in the office. She knows all the schedules."
Fushou nodded. "If it's not too much trouble…" he murmured.
"Not at all," the cafeteria keeper smiled and winked at him. "Just hang on for a moment, I'll be right back."
The man sighed once she was out the hearing range, before starting to absently fiddle with the table cloth. No turning back now. What would he say if Shindo was there, what would he say if they actually met? He had thought up many things before coming - many excuses - but couldn't remember any of them. Should he greet the man? Or maybe apologise for intruding on the man's schedule? Shindo was probably a busy man - as far as Fushou had been able to gather, being a high-rank professional in the Go world meant a busy schedule… or something like that.
It was so embarrassing being there, given that he had no idea how the professional Go world worked - or how Go itself worked, for that matter. It was like being in a sports stadium without understanding the sport or the people interested in it. Except the Go Association building was really more like an odd office building than any sport related place… but then again, Go was a board game, not exactly a sport…
Fushou took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He was babbling in his head again. He really needed to stop doing that. He needed to pull himself together - though how he could do that, he had no idea, as this was pretty much how he always was, just in lesser quantity. Meetings always made him nervous. Just meeting his landlord made him jumpy.
"You're in luck. It seems that Shindo has a game at the moment," the cafeteria keeper's voice made Fushou nearly jump. "And they're already well into the second half, so it shouldn't be long now… I let Shiori know that you're looking for Shindo and she promised to tell him when he'd pass by her … if you're willing to wait, I think you can meet him."
Fushou looked up at her, drawing his hands from the wrinkled table cloth to his lap and nodding. "T-thank you," he said, even though his heart was fluttering with panic now. "I appreciate it."
"You're welcome," the woman smiled. "Would you like another tea while you wait? Or maybe some coffee? No offence, but you look like you could use it."
"Um… yes, I'll have tea. Just plain green tea, please," Fushou nodded, turning his flushed face back to the table. Was he really so transparent? Probably.
The woman returned soon with the tea. "On the house," she winked while glancing around the open cafeteria and then sitting down beside him again. "It's quiet now," she murmured, stretching her hands. "It'll get a bit busier once they're done upstairs - some pro's come down here to relax after a match. Sometimes you can even see Ogata-sensei come down here for a smoke!"
Fushou looked at her nervously from the corner of his eyes, wondering if he was supposed to know who this Ogata person was and why it was remarkable to see him in the cafeteria. He decided against asking. "Um…" he hesitated for a moment before gathering his nerve. "Can… can you tell me about Shindo… sensei?" he asked, the last word feeling awkward on his tongue. The man in the picture he had seen hadn't seemed like a sensei to him.
"Well…" the woman trailed away thoughtfully. "He's a pretty strange case, that one. Strong, obviously, you don't get to be a seventh-dan at his age if you're not strong - well, of course there's Toya-sensei, but Toya-sensei's a special case. Shindo, though… as far as I know, he was an insei before becoming a pro - just for one year, though, passed his pro-exam on first try. There was some fuss about him in the beginning, something about sick leave I think, I wasn't really into Go back then… anyway, since then he's been one of those steadily improving guys, you know? Rises in rank pretty steadily…"
Fushou turned the tea cup absently in his hands, having no idea what she was talking about. Go-professional ranks obviously, but aside from that he had no idea. What was an insei anyway? Something important? "You called him… Hikaru of the Fan?" he asked cautiously.
"Ah, yes," the woman chuckled. "The mythical fan. It's his lucky charm, never goes anywhere without it. Old fashioned thing with a tassel and everything. I've never seen him without it. It's not that rare, a lot of pro's have their quirks, I even know of one who also has a fan but is more known for the habit of biting it than just carrying it," she chuckled. "Shindo's fan is pretty legendary though. He apparently starts tapping his stone bowl with it whenever he waits his opponent to resign, so a lot of lower dans have nightmares about it."
Fushou thought back to the image he had seen. Shindo hadn't had a fan in that one. The most defining feature of the man had been the bleached bangs and the casual clothes, especially considering that the other man in the picture had been wearing a nice suit. "What sort of person is he?" he asked nervously.
"Loud, laughs a lot… he's a nice guy, really. Bit on the rude side, but mostly just because he doesn't seem to think before speaking," the cafeteria keeper smiled at the memory. "His fights with Toya-sensei are legendary, though they rarely happen here. I've heard that they argue a lot at the Go-salon owned by the Toya-family, though. Anyway, Shindo's nothing to be nervous about. He's pretty friendly, I've never actually heard of him being cruel or mean or anything like that."
Fushou nodded, though he didn't feel relieved in the slightest. He wondered for a moment why the woman called this Toya person sensei, but not Shindo. Was the rank difference so huge?
"Anyway, Shindo's been a pro about…" the woman frowned. "Over ten years I think, he became one when he was pretty young… was he fourteen back then? Yeah, I think so, so it's over ten years at least. One of the New Wave, you know. A lot of good young pros appeared at the time, apparently. There was Toya-sensei, then Isumi-sensei… Ochi too, of course…"
The man nodded here and there though he had no idea what she was talking about. Playing Go professionally for over ten years? What kind of life was that? Well, as far as occupations went, it was probably better than Fushou's job anyway…
"Oh, I have customers. Sorry, sweetie," the woman suddenly said, hopping to her feet and shooting yet another wink at Fushou. "We need to continue this in a moment."
The man nodded embarrassedly. Sweetie? Really? Well, he had been called worse, but… sweetie? He shuddered slightly and took a sip of his cooling tea. If he was lucky, that would be the last time he would have to hear himself being called that. Though, his luck being what it was…
By the time he had drunk his tea, more people started appearing. Most of them seemed to be coming from the stairs and the elevator, so he assumed that they had come from upstairs. Whilst some headed towards the exit, others headed for the cafeteria, walking up to the counter to get some drinks and snacks while talking about Go and using terms that Fushou had never heard before. Then there was Shindo Hikaru, walking with a pretty young woman, making odd gestures with his folded fan while explaining something.
Fushou's hands reflexively grabbed a tighter hold on his tea cup before he quickly forced himself to relax his hold. Panicking now would do him no good - he should've panicked a few minutes ago and gotten out of the building when he had the chance - because this was stupid, a long shot and he was going to make a fool out of himself in front of all these people…
Shindo had noticed him. Not just that but he was staring at Fushou, he had even stopped walking. Fushou withdrew his hands from the cup and wondered what he should do. Did Shindo recognise him? It looked like he had - either that or Fushou had spilled tea all over himself and looked stupid enough to merit such a long stare, though surely he would've noticed if he had spilled his drink… he swallowed. What was he supposed to do? Should he get up? Face the man?
After a long hard stare, Shindo turned to look away sharply, leaving Fushou feeling like he had been dismissed somehow. As he blinked with confusion and an odd, painful relief, Shindo walked up to the counter to speak to the woman who had called Fushou sweetie. To Fushou's renewed horror, the woman smiled and then pointed him out to Shindo, who turned to look at him again, now with a look of disbelief on his face.
Fushou swallowed. He was going to get yelled at, just like with his landlord when he dared to ask for a few more days until he had to pay the rent, just like with his boss when he dared to ask for a day off, or an early payday… He shouldn't have come here, he was wasting Shindo's time, everyone could see it, he was making a fool out of himself, he should just leave…
Shindo was walking towards him now, long, fast steps which made Fushou feel like he was about to be attacked, that he should run, hide, take cover, anything. Before he could do anything but stare up like a deer caught in head lights, Shindo was already by his table, looking down at him with odd eyes and hands so tightly held in fists that his knuckles were white and his fan was making an odd sound.
Fushou opened his mouth to speak, to apologise, to make an excuse, to cover himself. But he didn't get the chance. Shindo spoke first, only speaking out one word, a strangely strained one, making it sound like it took considerable effort to get it out.
"Sai?"
Fushou didn't know what to say to that. Sai? He opened his mouth and closed it, before awkwardly shaking his head. He almost winced at the look of disappointment that flashed on the man's face, before hurriedly speaking, explaining, apologising. "I-I'm sorry for, for bothering you, Shindo-sensei, I… I imagine you have a very busy schedule… and… um…"
Shindo blinked before giving him an odd look, something between confusion, grief and regret. "It's alright, I'm done for today anyway," he assured and glanced at the counter. "Natsuki-san said you wanted to talk with me?" he asked, and when Fushou was too nervous to answer, he smiled awkwardly. "What's your name?"
"Fushou, I'm… called Fushou," he answered hurriedly. "I'm sorry I'm like… this, I'm kind of…" he looked away with a flush. "I get nervous easily."
Shindo chuckled. "It's okay," he said before making a motion with his hand. "Come on. Let's go outside, maybe you're less nervous with not so many people watching."
It was only then that Fushou realised that the entire cafeteria was staring at them. Flushing up to the roots of his long hair, he hurriedly stumbled away from the table and went after the Go-professional, who waved his goodbyes to his co-workers before heading towards the exit, Fushou following a few steps behind him.
"It's a nice day out," the man with short, partially bleached hair murmured as they stepped out into the warm early autumn hair. After a moment of breathing in, the man headed towards a nearby walkway. "So, I get the feeling that you're not exactly a fan of Go," he said.
"Ah… no, not really, I've never really played it," Fushou murmured, bowing his head. "I'm sorry."
"No need to apologise. There are a lot of people who haven't even heard of Go, it's not like you're making an offence or anything," Shindo laughed, glancing at him, before heading towards a nearby bench and sitting down. "What was it that you wanted, Fushou-san?"
"I, uh…" Fushou hesitated, his fingers taking hold of the sleeves of his jacket and absently twisting the fabric. "This is… this is going to sound stupid but…" he stared at the smooth walkway for a moment before looking up. "Do I… do I know you?"
Shindo tilted his head to the side, looking confused. "Um… what?"
Fushou flushed. "I, uh… I have amnesia," he explained awkwardly. "I've had it for a few years now, and I can't remember anything from the time before I got it. I've tried to remember, I've really tried, I've used all the methods I could think of. I've seen doctors, I've seen specialists, I've even tried acupuncture and shiatsu and reiki and… and a lot of things. I've tried studying different subjects to see if I could find anything I was familiar with, I've… I've tried everything I could think of, but my memory never… never returned…"
He swallowed as he realised he was babbling - and that Shindo was now staring at him. "Um… I… I saw you on a cover of a magazine a few days back - some sort of Go magazine," he said awkwardly, staring at the ground between them. "And… you looked… familiar. For the first time… I'm sorry if I bother you, but I… I had to know, I had to…"
"Amnesia?" Shindo murmured quietly, standing up again and looking at Fushou closely, taking in his face, impossibly long hair, the white coat, the light blue pants, the shoes. Fushou shivered slightly as the man's fingers touched his skin to lift his face to examine it, tilting it to one side gently and then to other. "Fushou… is it your real name?"
"The… the hospital staff gave it to me not much after I… woke up. Since there was no other and no one knew… knew who I was before, they kept calling me that," Fushou murmured, averting his eyes to the side, trying not to be as red as he probably was. "Um… Shindo-sensei…"
The other man let out an odd breath, exasperated, disbelieving and hopeful at the same time. "You look just like him," he murmured, tilting Fushou's face slightly again. "And I had almost forgotten what he looked like! But you have his face, his hair, his eyes; you even wear the same colours. You're missing a hat, but… you look just like him…"
"Like who?" Fushou asked eagerly, turning his eyes to the man again. "Shindo-sensei, do you know me? Did you know me before?"
"I didn't think it was possible - no, I thought without pain of doubt that it was impossible… but…" the Go-professional let him go, giving him an odd, desperate look. "You look just like him. Could it be that you really are my Sai?"
"Sai?" Fushou asked, tasting the word in his mouth. That was what Shindo had called him before. "So, you… knew someone who looks like me?"
"Exactly like you," Shindo murmured with a sad smile, sitting down on the bench again and taking Fushou's hands to his. "Fujiwara no Sai. He was my teacher, my companion and my best friend over ten years ago - he taught me Go. I thought he… died back then. One day he was there and then… then he was gone, and I thought it was for forever. This --" he took the fan, which he had pushed to his pocket, and handed it to Fushou. "Is his, actually. Well, one much like the one he had."
Fushou stared at the fan which was being offered to him handle first, before carefully taking it to his fingers. It felt odd. It was well made, the ribs were polished, painted wood and the paper was obviously hand crafted - the tassel was fine quality too. It opened easily, almost silently. "It feels…" he frowned, sitting down beside the Go-professional, staring at the fan. "It feels nostalgic."
"Does it?" Shindo murmured, eyeing him closely. "When you… woke up with the amnesia, where were you? What happened?"
"I woke up in the hospital," Fushou shrugged his shoulders awkwardly. "I can't remember anything before that. They say that some people found me in the street. They thought I was… drunk or intoxicated and took me to a hospital. I wasn't, but… I suppose being an amnesiac isn't exactly better."
"Was it here, in Tokyo?" Shindo asked.
Fushou nodded. "Yeah, in Setagaya - I was taken to the Okusawa hospital, that's where I woke up. I live in Setagaya too," he murmured.
"Setagaya, hmm…" Shindo leaned back thoughtfully. "And that was… how long ago?"
"About three years now," Fushou answered, staring at the fan in his hands. It was starting to feel less uncomfortable to hold. "I was at the hospital for some time, until the staff found me a cheap apartment and easy work, so that I could live by myself," he trailed away. It hadn't been easy. He had no schooling, no training, nothing he could remember at least. All he really could do was the easiest of jobs that required no education what so ever. On top of that he still had problems with things like using a computer - sometimes even the simplest things like using public transportation caused a headache for him.
"Three years," the Go-professional murmured, running his hand through his hair with a sigh. "Three years… without memories. That must suck," he frowned, trailing away and glancing at him. "What were you hoping? When you came to see me, that is?" he then asked.
"That you'd know me, could tell me who I am… maybe spark some memories," Fushou smiled awkwardly. "It's been three years but living without memories… it's not easy. I would rather remember who I am."
"Even if that person is completely different from you?" Shindo asked thoughtfully.
"It would still be me, wouldn't it?" Fushou asked, looking at him. "Do you think that… I really am this Sai you knew?"
"You look enough like him to be him. You even have his hair," the Go-professional smiled, reaching to Fushou's back and taking hold of the lengthy braid. Oddly enough, Fushou didn't feel bothered in the least that the man was touching his hair, though usually it felt like a violation. "It's pretty rare to see hair this length these days," the man murmured. "Tell me, have you tried playing Go?"
"No… not really. I hadn't even thought of it before seeing your picture," Fushou admitted.
"Well, that might be one way to find out whether you're my Sai or not," Shindo said, hopping to his feet. "Let's play Go. We can do it at my apartment, it's not far from here and no one would bother us there."
"But… I don't know how," Fushou murmured his fingers tightening around the fan's ribs and wishing he could bring it up to hide his face and his blush of embarrassment. "I did read few articles about it, but it didn't make sense to me."
"Trust me, if you're my Sai, you'll know the game," Shindo smiled confidently. "Come on."