answer_key (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
answer_key) wrote2013-09-20 08:45 am
answer_key) wrote2013-09-20 08:45 am
Entry tags:
[Loren]
by kexing
Remembrance Part 2
It is daylight and he is in Tokyo. The door he stepped through led out in to an ally, but when he steps into the light he is looking at the bustling crowds in Shinjuku. Akira is bewildered. He looks around, searching for anything that seems menacing or threatening, but everything is sunny and normal and people are hurrying on their way. He has no idea how a person can get stuck in despair here. What would Shindou be afraid of? Akira doesn’t know. Sometimes Shindou unwittingly drops hints, when he forgets there are things he shouldn’t be talking about, but he is also pretty exceptional at changing the subject and evading any further questions.
Akira stands still for a moment still trying to sort out his head, and then the morning catches up with him. He finds a bench, sits down and very quietly proceeds to have something suspiciously similar to a nervous breakdown. His heart is pounding in his ears and he can’t seem to catch his breath for a long, long time.
Eventually he calms down and tries to figure out something which remotely resembles a plan. He finally decides to find an Internet café. To make Shindou remember he first has to locate him. The impossibility of what he has set out to do is gnawing in the back of his mind but he refuses to dwell on it. He will find Shindou, he will bring him home and then he is going to kick his ass. This is not up for debate regardless of what Hell has to say on the matter. He walks carefully, looking around for hidden threats but everything stays the same. This looks just like the Tokyo he knows, down to the location of the Internet café. At first this familiarity was almost a relief but now this sameness is starting to disturb him.
At the café he tries to do a search on Shindou’s full name but can’t find anything that seems relevant. He thinks that Shindou might be a go pro here too, but a search of Weekly Go’s archives reveals no mentions of his name either. He sits still for a moment, trying to think. Then he fishes his mobile out of his pocket. There is no network coverage but the phonebook still works. He finds Shindou’s number and stares at it for a while. It can’t be that easy. He does an Internet search for the number but a completely different name comes up. He goes through his phone again. Finds Shindou’s parent’s number. Does another Internet search. And there it is: same name, same address and the number still seems active. Akira blinks. Can that really be it? It just feels too easy, too much like some trap just waiting to spring, but under the contract conditions he is supposed to be safe from direct harm so Akira has no idea of what the point of a trap would be. Anyway, it’s not like he has any other options at the moment than calling the number and working from there so he draws a deep breath and goes off to find a phone.
Finding a phone in Tokyo when your mobile isn’t working is harder than one might think, but Akira does actually manage to find a phone booth which takes honest to god coins. He stands still for a moment to calm himself down, then he dials Shindou’s parent’s number.
Shindou’s mom picks up almost immediately. Akira almost introduces himself with the usual familiarity until he remembers that she probably has no idea who he is. That feels strange. Those times he has met her Akira has always liked her even if Shindou often seems to be embarrassed over her fussing. The idea that they now might be complete strangers feels surreal. This isn’t real, though, he reminds himself.
He introduces himself as an old classmate and asks for Shindou. Shindou’s mother sounds a bit hesitant, but she also seems genuinely glad that he called.
“It would be so nice if Hikaru could connect with his old classmates again. He gets lonely sometimes, I think.”
She gives him both Shindou’s phone number and his work address and even manages to invite him for dinner sometime. Akira feels strangely guilty for lying to her. After he hangs up he stands very still staring down at his hands. Because this is still far too easy and doesn’t match his idea of Hell at all. What is a caring, concerned mother doing in Shindou’s personal Hell and how is she a part of the world built on his despair? And why is everything going so smoothly? He is pretty sure no workers of any hell dimension would let him stroll through this like it was a walk in the park. He’d assumed that finding Shindou would be a lot of work. Even if helping Shindou regain his memory is the biggest challenge he thought there would be more obstacles along the way. It makes no sense. If Hell great master plan isn’t to make him sit here for a week and overanalyzing everything.
The truth is that Akira is scared and that pressing feeling in his chest from this morning is still there grapping and twisting. The normalcy of this world is starting to feel threatening in itself and he has no idea how to handle it. But he has to find Shindou and for that reason running away, as always, is unthinkable. He knows where he has to go.
The work address Shindou’s mom gave him turns out to be a small corner shop hidden away between two buildings on a bustling street not too far from the Go Institute. Akira feels fairly sure that he has walked past this very store in the real world. He pauses just before opening the door trying to imagine what he will actually find inside. So far this world has to be one of the least hellish places imaginable. How can this world be built around Shindou’s fears and despair when it looks just like the real world? He keeps expecting something to break, to see the sunny façade crumble to show the real horror underneath, but it just keeps being Tokyo, seemingly no more dangerous than it has been during Akira’s whole life.
The store is dark and it takes a while for his eyes to adjust after entering, but when they do there is Shindou. Behind the counter of the store with messy hair and a worn out sweater talking listlessly to a girl. It is Shindou’s childhood friend Akira realizes, Akari-san. She is trying to press a bag with something that suspiciously smells like food into Shindou’s hands.
“Hikaruu,” she says “you can’t live on ramen. Can you please just take the food?”
”Whatever. Stop nagging. Don’t you have a boyfriend to take care of? Why are you bothering me?”
It doesn’t really sound like Shindou. It is his voice, but something is off with it. It sounds hollow.
Akira feels uneasy but clears his throat and both Shindou and Akari-san turns to look at him. Akari san looks embarrassed and apologetic, Shindou looks – Shindou looks empty.
Akira can’t breathe. In all the years he has known Shindou, all the years they have been chasing and fighting and playing each other Shindou has always looked intensely alive. There has always been this drive and focus and challenge in his eyes, like a light pulling people in. Akira has never really realized it before, never understood how big a part of Shindou that light is until now, face to face with a version whose eyes are empty. This Shindou doesn’t care and it is so wrong, so against Shindou’s very nature that it feels like a punch in the face. I don’t know this man.
The shop seem grayer than the world outside he suddenly realizes and unnaturally cold. As if whatever is wrong with Shindou is growing and breathing in here. Something ice cold presses against the back of Akira’s neck. He feels a bit dizzy.
Wait, what am I doing here again?
He draws a deep gasping breath and shakes his head but something is trembling inside him. You’re here because Shindou is an utter moron he tells himself. Amazingly enough that helps, that single thought clears Akira’s mind and makes him angry, because why does Shindou always have to be the center of things like this, the asshole. It is a good anger, hot and alive, and it chases of the traces of cold pressing around him.
He realizes that Akari-san is staring at him, which considering the circumstances is probably pretty natural. Shindou on the other hand seems indifferent.
When Akira doesn’t move Akari-san shifts uncomfortably and Shindou sighs.
“Hey, you. Do you want to buy something or what?”
He looks at Akira with a sort of bored contempt which makes Akira clench his fists so tight that his nails sinks in to the palm of his hand not just hit Shindou in the face. From their very first meeting Shindou has had an uncanny ability of getting under his skin and this version, this obviously wrong, horrible version is raising every hackle he has. Take deep breaths, he tells himself. You are here for a reason, remember?. The more meticulous side of Akira desperately wants a plan, a detailed script that he could follow, but he has been playing with Shindou long enough have learnt to go with the unexpected. He will need to know key pieces to analyze the game. What does and doesn’t Shindou remember?
He looks at Shindou carefully “I’m sorry, you’re Shindou right? I think we might have met before? We have a friend in common. Sai.”
It might not be the best of opening lines, but Akira is feeling pretty much out of his element and he hopes it will get the job done. He desperately wishes they could have had this conversation in front of a go board.
“We know each other? From where? A girls-only boarding school?”
The blatant disbelief in Shindou’s voice is obvious as he gives Akira a once-over and Akira bristles when he feels those eyes on him, following the line of his jaw and lingering with disdain on the length of his hair. Despite his well-mannered image Akira isn’t a very patient person. Shindou is the one who waits and lays traps, Akira prefers to line up his pieces and go to war. Right now, it takes an awful lot of self-control to not just launch himself at Shindou, slap him in the face and shake him until he remember exactly who he is and where he belongs. But if this place actually works like the real world getting arrested for assault probably isn’t the best strategy. So he clenches his teeth, and tries again.
”But you are Shindou Hikaru, right? And you know Sai?”
Shindou’s eyes grow distant again and the dull emptiness is worse than the contempt. Of all the things Akira has faced from Shindou over the years, this kind of utter indifferences isn’t one of them He has never really realized how spoiled he is by Shindou’s constant attention until it isn’t there anymore.
“Look. Yeah, I’m Shindou. But I don’t know any Sai. You probably got me mixed up with someone.”
No Sai then. If Sai actually is Sai’s real name, but that isn’t a very constructive thought. Akira can feel his cheeks heat in frustration and he is still considerably shaken by this version of Shindou. All the way here he has thought he would be dealing with the Shindou he knows. Maybe a version who didn’t know him, but one whose button Akira learnt years ago. This one, however, he has no idea how to even talk to. But there must be a common baseline, he tells himself.
“I think it maybe you know him from the go club?”
He purposefully leaves the details vague. He knows Shindou started go as a kid so with or without Sai he should be involved in something go related.
He can see the error of that in Shindou’s face almost before he ends the sentence.
“The go club?”
The sheer incredulity in Shindou’s voice makes Akira clench is teeth so hard it hurts. No go at all then, either.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you have the wrong person”
Back to hollow again. This Shindou seems to have trouble feeling much of anything. For one moment Akira wonders if this actually is Shindou, or if it is some sort of constructed hell puppet laid out to distract him from the real version. But as he looks around and thinks that through he realizes that this Shindou, no matter how hollowed eyed and apathetic he seems, is more tangible than Akari-san who is still fussing over him or the interior of the shop. This Shindou looks solid while everything else is just a little bit faded. That is a relief in a way, but it still means that Akira is stuck trying to figure out what the hell he is supposed to do. His eyes are burning a bit but he firmly tells himself that it is because he is tired.
Akari-san smiles at him apologetically. Just like Shindou's mother, there doesn't seem to be anything particularly hellish about her. She looks and sounds the same as she always has, just a little bit more faded.
“I’m sorry" she says. "Hikaru has always been uninterested in that sort of thing. His grandfather has been wanting him to play forever, though.“
Shindou snorts and Akira finds himself staring again. A Shindou who has no love for go. Maybe it was true once, for the boy Touya met when they were twelve, but not ever during the years that has followed.
Shindou must have noticed the scrutiny but it doesn’t appear to bother him much.
“Did you want anything?” he says dully.
And Akira realizes he can’t stay in this room anymore. He has to leave, sit down and think things through. Right now he is unbalanced, strangely cold and irrationally hurt by Shindou’s indifference and what he needs is properly formulate an attack plan.
“Nothing,” he says “I. I need to go.”
And then he flees from the cold constraints of the store.
His first impulse is to simply go home, but realizes that he has no home here. Even if it technically exists in this world that would probably also mean that there is a copy of himself residing in it and the idea of running into himself does not sound… advisable. He opts for a hotel room instead. After checking in, he sits down on the bed and just breathes for a while. This is going to be alright, he tells himself. I found Shindou, and no matter what, I do know him. I’ll fix this.
He thinks for a while about what could possibly jump-start Shindou’s memories, and the most logical thing he comes up with is games. There are so many beautiful games that Shindou is connected to, so many memorable games he has played and if anything might help him remember these games are it. Actually having a strategy of sorts makes Akira feel much better and he goes off to acquire some kifu paper.
He is a bit nervous walking around in Tokyo, worried about the risk of running in to someone who knows him. Or rather the version of him that exists here. He doesn’t know who or what he is in this world and he wants to avoid any confrontation. So he goes to a different go store than the one he normally frequents but still braces himself to be recognized. Wherever there are go supplies one or two people will usually know his face.
But surprisingly no one does. It feels surreal to be so completely anonymous in what has always felt like his domain. Akira is not really conceited, but he has practically grown up in the limelight and his fame has only increased with time. Everyone in the go world knows him – has seen his face in the papers or faced him across the go board – and in the back of his mind he has always accepted this as normal. While he appreciates the lack of attention right now, it feels odd to be this invisible. Maybe he isn’t even a go player here. Maybe Shindou’s head has made him a factory worker or something. That cold he felt in Shindou’s store touches his neck again, slithering and wet. For a moment he feels a hint of the same dizziness. All those games that have never existed here; all the vanished patterns of stones… But that’s nonsense, he tells himself, because played here or not all those games are still in his head. He remembers them and he will make Shindou remember. The cold dissolves but the memory sticks with him. There is something wrong with that cold; it feels almost sentient and it makes Akira wary.
He returns to the hotel and spends the afternoon drawing up kifus. He knows a lot of Shindou’s games by heart - which helps, he thinks drily - and he tries to write down the games that have personal importance to Shindou. Some of his and Shindou’s games. The one with Ko Yeong-ha. The Tengen final last year. He wishes he had a go board but considering the face Shindou made at the mention of go, a piece of paper is probably easier to get Shindou to look at than a board. He still has to find Sai of course, but if he can get Shindou to at least remember anything about go he might remember something about Sai and then Akira can work from there.
After he is done he feels strangely optimistic. This is, after all, the essence of what Shindou is. It is both a start and a concrete strategy and he feels in balance the first time since he walked in through the door.
This time he doesn’t hesitate in front of the store. He straightens his back and walks straight in. It’s empty except for Shindou who stands motionless behind the counter, staring blankly in to thin air. He doesn’t even turn his head as Akira enters. Shindou looks like a shell of himself, as if everything he is has been pulled out of him. The cold, wet feeling still permeates the room and the air almost seems to be twisting like a living thing. Akira refuses to be intimidated. Hell can try its damnedest as far as he is concerned.
”Hey.” he says sharply.
Shindou looks up slowly. For a moment it looks like he doesn’t even recognizes Akira from this afternoon. Then he says,
“Oh, it’s you again,” and turns away. This time Akira refuses to stand around and being ignored though and even if this version of Shindou still brings him off balance he refuses to give in to the feeling. This is fixable and he is going to fix it! So he takes out his kifus and puts them right in front of Shindou.
“I want you to look at these”
Social niceties won’t get him anywhere with Shindou and while Akira ordinarily is never rude to people, Shindou in any form has always been the sole exception. Also he desperately wants to snap Shindou out of this lethargy he seems to be stuck in. Upset or angry Shindou he can handle. Uncaring and hollow Shindou he has no idea what to do with.
But Shindou hardly reacts. He looks up with a mild sort of annoyance, as if Akira was some strange kind of mosquito.
“You’re sort of weird,” he says. “If you aren’t going to buy anything you shouldn’t hang around here.”
Akira can feel the cold in the store crowding him, searching, pulling and tugging. He is getting a bit dizzy again but he shakes his head and ignores it.
“I won’t leave until you look at them,” he says.
Shindou sighs. He seems totally unconcerned by the fact that some stranger just walked into his store and demanded that he look at some papers. As if caring would take up too much energy. He just listlessly picks up a few kifu and looks through them. His face doesn’t change.
Akira doesn’t really know what he was expecting. A glimpse of recognition, a hint of something, a memory. But Shindou just stares at the kifu blankly with the same apathy as before. These games means nothing to him. The cold in the store is growing and Akira is shivering from it.
“They don’t mean anything to you,” he says and he doesn’t even realize that he has spoken out loud until he hears his own voice.
Shindou lip curls but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Sorry to disappoint you. Things generally don’t mean anything to me.”
It is a quip but for a moment, under the glibness, Akira senses utter agony. There is an emptiness that seems endless and even though Shindou didn’t even raise his voice Akira is abruptly certain that Shindou is somehow screaming and that an echo of that scream is reverberating in Akira’s head over and over again.
And then the cold catches him. Suddenly Akira can’t breathe. His eyes grow blurry. The coldness slithers and twists in him and his head grows more and more fuzzy. He is starting to shake and he is forgetting. He is forgetting all his games. Not just the ones with Shindou but everything in connection to him. That drive he discovered in the face of a boy his age who held his stones like an amateur but played games so high above Akira that it hurt. All the anger and force and determination fade out, and all the game played with those emotions flicker and fall away like dead leaves. For a moment the only thing he can see is a go board with questions he can’t seem to find answers to and a go which never gets truly strong. And he doesn’t understand why. He has been looking and looking for the answer, for that missing piece of his game and it isn’t…
The cold is alive he distantly realizes. It’s alive and it is feeding on him, drawing out his very essence from the depth of his chest and it hurts more than he can comprehend. It’s so cold. So desperately, desperately cold and he is drowning in it. He remembers sitting face to face with a man with an extraordinarily common face and remembers what he said,
“We cannot, however, guarantee your safety from getting caught in the despair of Hell. That is your own responsibility.”
Stop it. He almost snarls, fighting the cold that is pressing from every direction. The despair of Hell. He didn’t even think to question what it was. Now he fights it, refusing to drown and his inherent obstinacy serves him well here. Stop it, he thinks again, forcing himself to remember and the world slowly warms up around him.
When the heat comes back he feels like he has run a marathon. He is gasping for air and his cheeks are flushed. He wonders distantly if he has been holding his breath. For a moment the only thing he wants to do is run. He has never been as afraid as he is right now and the thought of getting sucked into that cold vast nothingness again is almost too much. It takes him a few minutes to get that all-consuming terror under control.
Shindou is back to staring in to empty air again seemingly unperturbed but Akira can still hear that scream like a whisper in his head.
“Can you take those things of the counter? Other customers might come in.”
Akira really wants to hit him in the face. He carefully considers doing so, but he has a dreadful feeling in his stomach that it wouldn’t even make Shindou turn his head. He carefully collects the kifus and takes a deep breath. What he needs to do is to find Sai and to find Sai he needs to figure out how this world is different from the real one. What did or didn’t happen in this world which led to Shindou never looking at a go board? Since the simplest way to start probably is to ask, Akira does just that.
“Hey,” he says again. “Did you ever consider playing? Go, I mean?”
Shindou gives him that face again.
“Playing go? What the hell are you even talking about?” There is no hint of any recognition but Akira refuses to give up.
“Never? There was never any time when you wanted to?”
Shindou stares at him for a moment, then the corners of his mouth tilt upwards in a bitter smile.
“Oh, I get it now. My grandfather put you up to this.”
Shindou’s grandfather? He plays go Akira remembers. Akira has played with him once or twice. A decent amateur player and terribly proud of Shindou.
“No,” he says truthfully. “Why do you think he would?”
“Oh please,” Shindou turns away again. “Of course he did. It is a running theme in the family how I never apply myself to anything. Like it isn’t bad enough that they send Akari in here to nag me about my life choices and my eating habits. Now my grandfather had to hire some weirdo go freak to stalk me.”
“But he didn’t hire me, whatever you might think” Akira insists. “And you never answered my question.”
Shindou laughs joylessly again.
“Look, I’ve already had this conversation with my family too many times and I don’t want to have it again. I don’t want to hear how I fail at life. I.Don’t.Care. Now I am about to close up, so if you aren’t going to buy anything get out or I’ll have you banned from the store.”
There is no real anger in what he says, just bitterness and infinite tiredness which just makes it worse.
Akira really wants to refuse, but the threat of being banned from the store makes him worry. And in all honesty, he can feel the cold twisting around him again, and the same dizziness coming back. To his own shame he can’t take another round right now.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises, but he doesn’t know if Shindou even hears him.
He draws deep breaths as he gets out of the store, but there doesn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the air. He sits down on a nearby bench for a while trying to get some sun in his system but the longer he sits the more he realizes the truth of his earlier observation. This world is faded. The sun, the air and the people – everything has a slightly muddled quality that is becoming more and more apparent the longer he stays here. For a moment he debates going back to the store immediately after all. The cold terrifies him, but the echo of that scream haunts him. But he isn’t sure if his presence even helps Shindou, so in the end he chooses to return to the hotel and consider his options again.
It is obvious the cold presence – the despair of Hell – is centered around Shindou. Even if Akira can feel the cold in other places, it’s at its most compact and alive in that store. Akira thinks he might understand its workings now. The cold is eating up everything Shindou is pulling it out of him piece by piece. When Akira is around it also feeds on him, erasing not only all his memories of Shindou but all games Akira has played that has been affected by Shindou and all the inspiration he found in those games. Nothing flashy, the man said and that much is true. It isn’t eternal burning or physical torture. Instead this Hell erases parts of who you are. All those things vitally important to your being, your whole joy at being alive is drawn out and devoured. It builds a world close enough to reality so you mind doesn’t question it while it consumes all the things you find important. Akira knows how essential finding go was to Shindou and he can see more than one reason why the despair would go after those exact memories. Not only was it the first thing Shindou was really serious about in his life but it is also the one part of him Akira can lay claim to. Without that…
Akira forcefully stops himself from finishing that thought. His hands are still shaking slightly from the memory of the cold, but he gathers his resolve. This is important, probably the most important thing he has ever done and nothing is going to make him run away from it. The only thing he can do right now is to return to that store and keep asking Shindou questions, and that is exactly what he is planning to do in the morning.
Determination or not, it takes Akira a long time to go to sleep that night and when he finally manages he dreams about ice encasing him an ice cold claw prying his chest open, slowly devouring everything he is. He can feel the memories of everything he finds important being pulled away and he can’t find his voice to scream. The air in his lungs is ice cold and heavy and the world around him is breaking apart.
kexingRemembrance Part 2
It is daylight and he is in Tokyo. The door he stepped through led out in to an ally, but when he steps into the light he is looking at the bustling crowds in Shinjuku. Akira is bewildered. He looks around, searching for anything that seems menacing or threatening, but everything is sunny and normal and people are hurrying on their way. He has no idea how a person can get stuck in despair here. What would Shindou be afraid of? Akira doesn’t know. Sometimes Shindou unwittingly drops hints, when he forgets there are things he shouldn’t be talking about, but he is also pretty exceptional at changing the subject and evading any further questions.
Akira stands still for a moment still trying to sort out his head, and then the morning catches up with him. He finds a bench, sits down and very quietly proceeds to have something suspiciously similar to a nervous breakdown. His heart is pounding in his ears and he can’t seem to catch his breath for a long, long time.
Eventually he calms down and tries to figure out something which remotely resembles a plan. He finally decides to find an Internet café. To make Shindou remember he first has to locate him. The impossibility of what he has set out to do is gnawing in the back of his mind but he refuses to dwell on it. He will find Shindou, he will bring him home and then he is going to kick his ass. This is not up for debate regardless of what Hell has to say on the matter. He walks carefully, looking around for hidden threats but everything stays the same. This looks just like the Tokyo he knows, down to the location of the Internet café. At first this familiarity was almost a relief but now this sameness is starting to disturb him.
At the café he tries to do a search on Shindou’s full name but can’t find anything that seems relevant. He thinks that Shindou might be a go pro here too, but a search of Weekly Go’s archives reveals no mentions of his name either. He sits still for a moment, trying to think. Then he fishes his mobile out of his pocket. There is no network coverage but the phonebook still works. He finds Shindou’s number and stares at it for a while. It can’t be that easy. He does an Internet search for the number but a completely different name comes up. He goes through his phone again. Finds Shindou’s parent’s number. Does another Internet search. And there it is: same name, same address and the number still seems active. Akira blinks. Can that really be it? It just feels too easy, too much like some trap just waiting to spring, but under the contract conditions he is supposed to be safe from direct harm so Akira has no idea of what the point of a trap would be. Anyway, it’s not like he has any other options at the moment than calling the number and working from there so he draws a deep breath and goes off to find a phone.
Finding a phone in Tokyo when your mobile isn’t working is harder than one might think, but Akira does actually manage to find a phone booth which takes honest to god coins. He stands still for a moment to calm himself down, then he dials Shindou’s parent’s number.
Shindou’s mom picks up almost immediately. Akira almost introduces himself with the usual familiarity until he remembers that she probably has no idea who he is. That feels strange. Those times he has met her Akira has always liked her even if Shindou often seems to be embarrassed over her fussing. The idea that they now might be complete strangers feels surreal. This isn’t real, though, he reminds himself.
He introduces himself as an old classmate and asks for Shindou. Shindou’s mother sounds a bit hesitant, but she also seems genuinely glad that he called.
“It would be so nice if Hikaru could connect with his old classmates again. He gets lonely sometimes, I think.”
She gives him both Shindou’s phone number and his work address and even manages to invite him for dinner sometime. Akira feels strangely guilty for lying to her. After he hangs up he stands very still staring down at his hands. Because this is still far too easy and doesn’t match his idea of Hell at all. What is a caring, concerned mother doing in Shindou’s personal Hell and how is she a part of the world built on his despair? And why is everything going so smoothly? He is pretty sure no workers of any hell dimension would let him stroll through this like it was a walk in the park. He’d assumed that finding Shindou would be a lot of work. Even if helping Shindou regain his memory is the biggest challenge he thought there would be more obstacles along the way. It makes no sense. If Hell great master plan isn’t to make him sit here for a week and overanalyzing everything.
The truth is that Akira is scared and that pressing feeling in his chest from this morning is still there grapping and twisting. The normalcy of this world is starting to feel threatening in itself and he has no idea how to handle it. But he has to find Shindou and for that reason running away, as always, is unthinkable. He knows where he has to go.
The work address Shindou’s mom gave him turns out to be a small corner shop hidden away between two buildings on a bustling street not too far from the Go Institute. Akira feels fairly sure that he has walked past this very store in the real world. He pauses just before opening the door trying to imagine what he will actually find inside. So far this world has to be one of the least hellish places imaginable. How can this world be built around Shindou’s fears and despair when it looks just like the real world? He keeps expecting something to break, to see the sunny façade crumble to show the real horror underneath, but it just keeps being Tokyo, seemingly no more dangerous than it has been during Akira’s whole life.
The store is dark and it takes a while for his eyes to adjust after entering, but when they do there is Shindou. Behind the counter of the store with messy hair and a worn out sweater talking listlessly to a girl. It is Shindou’s childhood friend Akira realizes, Akari-san. She is trying to press a bag with something that suspiciously smells like food into Shindou’s hands.
“Hikaruu,” she says “you can’t live on ramen. Can you please just take the food?”
”Whatever. Stop nagging. Don’t you have a boyfriend to take care of? Why are you bothering me?”
It doesn’t really sound like Shindou. It is his voice, but something is off with it. It sounds hollow.
Akira feels uneasy but clears his throat and both Shindou and Akari-san turns to look at him. Akari san looks embarrassed and apologetic, Shindou looks – Shindou looks empty.
Akira can’t breathe. In all the years he has known Shindou, all the years they have been chasing and fighting and playing each other Shindou has always looked intensely alive. There has always been this drive and focus and challenge in his eyes, like a light pulling people in. Akira has never really realized it before, never understood how big a part of Shindou that light is until now, face to face with a version whose eyes are empty. This Shindou doesn’t care and it is so wrong, so against Shindou’s very nature that it feels like a punch in the face. I don’t know this man.
The shop seem grayer than the world outside he suddenly realizes and unnaturally cold. As if whatever is wrong with Shindou is growing and breathing in here. Something ice cold presses against the back of Akira’s neck. He feels a bit dizzy.
Wait, what am I doing here again?
He draws a deep gasping breath and shakes his head but something is trembling inside him. You’re here because Shindou is an utter moron he tells himself. Amazingly enough that helps, that single thought clears Akira’s mind and makes him angry, because why does Shindou always have to be the center of things like this, the asshole. It is a good anger, hot and alive, and it chases of the traces of cold pressing around him.
He realizes that Akari-san is staring at him, which considering the circumstances is probably pretty natural. Shindou on the other hand seems indifferent.
When Akira doesn’t move Akari-san shifts uncomfortably and Shindou sighs.
“Hey, you. Do you want to buy something or what?”
He looks at Akira with a sort of bored contempt which makes Akira clench his fists so tight that his nails sinks in to the palm of his hand not just hit Shindou in the face. From their very first meeting Shindou has had an uncanny ability of getting under his skin and this version, this obviously wrong, horrible version is raising every hackle he has. Take deep breaths, he tells himself. You are here for a reason, remember?. The more meticulous side of Akira desperately wants a plan, a detailed script that he could follow, but he has been playing with Shindou long enough have learnt to go with the unexpected. He will need to know key pieces to analyze the game. What does and doesn’t Shindou remember?
He looks at Shindou carefully “I’m sorry, you’re Shindou right? I think we might have met before? We have a friend in common. Sai.”
It might not be the best of opening lines, but Akira is feeling pretty much out of his element and he hopes it will get the job done. He desperately wishes they could have had this conversation in front of a go board.
“We know each other? From where? A girls-only boarding school?”
The blatant disbelief in Shindou’s voice is obvious as he gives Akira a once-over and Akira bristles when he feels those eyes on him, following the line of his jaw and lingering with disdain on the length of his hair. Despite his well-mannered image Akira isn’t a very patient person. Shindou is the one who waits and lays traps, Akira prefers to line up his pieces and go to war. Right now, it takes an awful lot of self-control to not just launch himself at Shindou, slap him in the face and shake him until he remember exactly who he is and where he belongs. But if this place actually works like the real world getting arrested for assault probably isn’t the best strategy. So he clenches his teeth, and tries again.
”But you are Shindou Hikaru, right? And you know Sai?”
Shindou’s eyes grow distant again and the dull emptiness is worse than the contempt. Of all the things Akira has faced from Shindou over the years, this kind of utter indifferences isn’t one of them He has never really realized how spoiled he is by Shindou’s constant attention until it isn’t there anymore.
“Look. Yeah, I’m Shindou. But I don’t know any Sai. You probably got me mixed up with someone.”
No Sai then. If Sai actually is Sai’s real name, but that isn’t a very constructive thought. Akira can feel his cheeks heat in frustration and he is still considerably shaken by this version of Shindou. All the way here he has thought he would be dealing with the Shindou he knows. Maybe a version who didn’t know him, but one whose button Akira learnt years ago. This one, however, he has no idea how to even talk to. But there must be a common baseline, he tells himself.
“I think it maybe you know him from the go club?”
He purposefully leaves the details vague. He knows Shindou started go as a kid so with or without Sai he should be involved in something go related.
He can see the error of that in Shindou’s face almost before he ends the sentence.
“The go club?”
The sheer incredulity in Shindou’s voice makes Akira clench is teeth so hard it hurts. No go at all then, either.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you have the wrong person”
Back to hollow again. This Shindou seems to have trouble feeling much of anything. For one moment Akira wonders if this actually is Shindou, or if it is some sort of constructed hell puppet laid out to distract him from the real version. But as he looks around and thinks that through he realizes that this Shindou, no matter how hollowed eyed and apathetic he seems, is more tangible than Akari-san who is still fussing over him or the interior of the shop. This Shindou looks solid while everything else is just a little bit faded. That is a relief in a way, but it still means that Akira is stuck trying to figure out what the hell he is supposed to do. His eyes are burning a bit but he firmly tells himself that it is because he is tired.
Akari-san smiles at him apologetically. Just like Shindou's mother, there doesn't seem to be anything particularly hellish about her. She looks and sounds the same as she always has, just a little bit more faded.
“I’m sorry" she says. "Hikaru has always been uninterested in that sort of thing. His grandfather has been wanting him to play forever, though.“
Shindou snorts and Akira finds himself staring again. A Shindou who has no love for go. Maybe it was true once, for the boy Touya met when they were twelve, but not ever during the years that has followed.
Shindou must have noticed the scrutiny but it doesn’t appear to bother him much.
“Did you want anything?” he says dully.
And Akira realizes he can’t stay in this room anymore. He has to leave, sit down and think things through. Right now he is unbalanced, strangely cold and irrationally hurt by Shindou’s indifference and what he needs is properly formulate an attack plan.
“Nothing,” he says “I. I need to go.”
And then he flees from the cold constraints of the store.
His first impulse is to simply go home, but realizes that he has no home here. Even if it technically exists in this world that would probably also mean that there is a copy of himself residing in it and the idea of running into himself does not sound… advisable. He opts for a hotel room instead. After checking in, he sits down on the bed and just breathes for a while. This is going to be alright, he tells himself. I found Shindou, and no matter what, I do know him. I’ll fix this.
He thinks for a while about what could possibly jump-start Shindou’s memories, and the most logical thing he comes up with is games. There are so many beautiful games that Shindou is connected to, so many memorable games he has played and if anything might help him remember these games are it. Actually having a strategy of sorts makes Akira feel much better and he goes off to acquire some kifu paper.
He is a bit nervous walking around in Tokyo, worried about the risk of running in to someone who knows him. Or rather the version of him that exists here. He doesn’t know who or what he is in this world and he wants to avoid any confrontation. So he goes to a different go store than the one he normally frequents but still braces himself to be recognized. Wherever there are go supplies one or two people will usually know his face.
But surprisingly no one does. It feels surreal to be so completely anonymous in what has always felt like his domain. Akira is not really conceited, but he has practically grown up in the limelight and his fame has only increased with time. Everyone in the go world knows him – has seen his face in the papers or faced him across the go board – and in the back of his mind he has always accepted this as normal. While he appreciates the lack of attention right now, it feels odd to be this invisible. Maybe he isn’t even a go player here. Maybe Shindou’s head has made him a factory worker or something. That cold he felt in Shindou’s store touches his neck again, slithering and wet. For a moment he feels a hint of the same dizziness. All those games that have never existed here; all the vanished patterns of stones… But that’s nonsense, he tells himself, because played here or not all those games are still in his head. He remembers them and he will make Shindou remember. The cold dissolves but the memory sticks with him. There is something wrong with that cold; it feels almost sentient and it makes Akira wary.
He returns to the hotel and spends the afternoon drawing up kifus. He knows a lot of Shindou’s games by heart - which helps, he thinks drily - and he tries to write down the games that have personal importance to Shindou. Some of his and Shindou’s games. The one with Ko Yeong-ha. The Tengen final last year. He wishes he had a go board but considering the face Shindou made at the mention of go, a piece of paper is probably easier to get Shindou to look at than a board. He still has to find Sai of course, but if he can get Shindou to at least remember anything about go he might remember something about Sai and then Akira can work from there.
After he is done he feels strangely optimistic. This is, after all, the essence of what Shindou is. It is both a start and a concrete strategy and he feels in balance the first time since he walked in through the door.
This time he doesn’t hesitate in front of the store. He straightens his back and walks straight in. It’s empty except for Shindou who stands motionless behind the counter, staring blankly in to thin air. He doesn’t even turn his head as Akira enters. Shindou looks like a shell of himself, as if everything he is has been pulled out of him. The cold, wet feeling still permeates the room and the air almost seems to be twisting like a living thing. Akira refuses to be intimidated. Hell can try its damnedest as far as he is concerned.
”Hey.” he says sharply.
Shindou looks up slowly. For a moment it looks like he doesn’t even recognizes Akira from this afternoon. Then he says,
“Oh, it’s you again,” and turns away. This time Akira refuses to stand around and being ignored though and even if this version of Shindou still brings him off balance he refuses to give in to the feeling. This is fixable and he is going to fix it! So he takes out his kifus and puts them right in front of Shindou.
“I want you to look at these”
Social niceties won’t get him anywhere with Shindou and while Akira ordinarily is never rude to people, Shindou in any form has always been the sole exception. Also he desperately wants to snap Shindou out of this lethargy he seems to be stuck in. Upset or angry Shindou he can handle. Uncaring and hollow Shindou he has no idea what to do with.
But Shindou hardly reacts. He looks up with a mild sort of annoyance, as if Akira was some strange kind of mosquito.
“You’re sort of weird,” he says. “If you aren’t going to buy anything you shouldn’t hang around here.”
Akira can feel the cold in the store crowding him, searching, pulling and tugging. He is getting a bit dizzy again but he shakes his head and ignores it.
“I won’t leave until you look at them,” he says.
Shindou sighs. He seems totally unconcerned by the fact that some stranger just walked into his store and demanded that he look at some papers. As if caring would take up too much energy. He just listlessly picks up a few kifu and looks through them. His face doesn’t change.
Akira doesn’t really know what he was expecting. A glimpse of recognition, a hint of something, a memory. But Shindou just stares at the kifu blankly with the same apathy as before. These games means nothing to him. The cold in the store is growing and Akira is shivering from it.
“They don’t mean anything to you,” he says and he doesn’t even realize that he has spoken out loud until he hears his own voice.
Shindou lip curls but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Sorry to disappoint you. Things generally don’t mean anything to me.”
It is a quip but for a moment, under the glibness, Akira senses utter agony. There is an emptiness that seems endless and even though Shindou didn’t even raise his voice Akira is abruptly certain that Shindou is somehow screaming and that an echo of that scream is reverberating in Akira’s head over and over again.
And then the cold catches him. Suddenly Akira can’t breathe. His eyes grow blurry. The coldness slithers and twists in him and his head grows more and more fuzzy. He is starting to shake and he is forgetting. He is forgetting all his games. Not just the ones with Shindou but everything in connection to him. That drive he discovered in the face of a boy his age who held his stones like an amateur but played games so high above Akira that it hurt. All the anger and force and determination fade out, and all the game played with those emotions flicker and fall away like dead leaves. For a moment the only thing he can see is a go board with questions he can’t seem to find answers to and a go which never gets truly strong. And he doesn’t understand why. He has been looking and looking for the answer, for that missing piece of his game and it isn’t…
The cold is alive he distantly realizes. It’s alive and it is feeding on him, drawing out his very essence from the depth of his chest and it hurts more than he can comprehend. It’s so cold. So desperately, desperately cold and he is drowning in it. He remembers sitting face to face with a man with an extraordinarily common face and remembers what he said,
“We cannot, however, guarantee your safety from getting caught in the despair of Hell. That is your own responsibility.”
Stop it. He almost snarls, fighting the cold that is pressing from every direction. The despair of Hell. He didn’t even think to question what it was. Now he fights it, refusing to drown and his inherent obstinacy serves him well here. Stop it, he thinks again, forcing himself to remember and the world slowly warms up around him.
When the heat comes back he feels like he has run a marathon. He is gasping for air and his cheeks are flushed. He wonders distantly if he has been holding his breath. For a moment the only thing he wants to do is run. He has never been as afraid as he is right now and the thought of getting sucked into that cold vast nothingness again is almost too much. It takes him a few minutes to get that all-consuming terror under control.
Shindou is back to staring in to empty air again seemingly unperturbed but Akira can still hear that scream like a whisper in his head.
“Can you take those things of the counter? Other customers might come in.”
Akira really wants to hit him in the face. He carefully considers doing so, but he has a dreadful feeling in his stomach that it wouldn’t even make Shindou turn his head. He carefully collects the kifus and takes a deep breath. What he needs to do is to find Sai and to find Sai he needs to figure out how this world is different from the real one. What did or didn’t happen in this world which led to Shindou never looking at a go board? Since the simplest way to start probably is to ask, Akira does just that.
“Hey,” he says again. “Did you ever consider playing? Go, I mean?”
Shindou gives him that face again.
“Playing go? What the hell are you even talking about?” There is no hint of any recognition but Akira refuses to give up.
“Never? There was never any time when you wanted to?”
Shindou stares at him for a moment, then the corners of his mouth tilt upwards in a bitter smile.
“Oh, I get it now. My grandfather put you up to this.”
Shindou’s grandfather? He plays go Akira remembers. Akira has played with him once or twice. A decent amateur player and terribly proud of Shindou.
“No,” he says truthfully. “Why do you think he would?”
“Oh please,” Shindou turns away again. “Of course he did. It is a running theme in the family how I never apply myself to anything. Like it isn’t bad enough that they send Akari in here to nag me about my life choices and my eating habits. Now my grandfather had to hire some weirdo go freak to stalk me.”
“But he didn’t hire me, whatever you might think” Akira insists. “And you never answered my question.”
Shindou laughs joylessly again.
“Look, I’ve already had this conversation with my family too many times and I don’t want to have it again. I don’t want to hear how I fail at life. I.Don’t.Care. Now I am about to close up, so if you aren’t going to buy anything get out or I’ll have you banned from the store.”
There is no real anger in what he says, just bitterness and infinite tiredness which just makes it worse.
Akira really wants to refuse, but the threat of being banned from the store makes him worry. And in all honesty, he can feel the cold twisting around him again, and the same dizziness coming back. To his own shame he can’t take another round right now.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises, but he doesn’t know if Shindou even hears him.
He draws deep breaths as he gets out of the store, but there doesn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the air. He sits down on a nearby bench for a while trying to get some sun in his system but the longer he sits the more he realizes the truth of his earlier observation. This world is faded. The sun, the air and the people – everything has a slightly muddled quality that is becoming more and more apparent the longer he stays here. For a moment he debates going back to the store immediately after all. The cold terrifies him, but the echo of that scream haunts him. But he isn’t sure if his presence even helps Shindou, so in the end he chooses to return to the hotel and consider his options again.
It is obvious the cold presence – the despair of Hell – is centered around Shindou. Even if Akira can feel the cold in other places, it’s at its most compact and alive in that store. Akira thinks he might understand its workings now. The cold is eating up everything Shindou is pulling it out of him piece by piece. When Akira is around it also feeds on him, erasing not only all his memories of Shindou but all games Akira has played that has been affected by Shindou and all the inspiration he found in those games. Nothing flashy, the man said and that much is true. It isn’t eternal burning or physical torture. Instead this Hell erases parts of who you are. All those things vitally important to your being, your whole joy at being alive is drawn out and devoured. It builds a world close enough to reality so you mind doesn’t question it while it consumes all the things you find important. Akira knows how essential finding go was to Shindou and he can see more than one reason why the despair would go after those exact memories. Not only was it the first thing Shindou was really serious about in his life but it is also the one part of him Akira can lay claim to. Without that…
Akira forcefully stops himself from finishing that thought. His hands are still shaking slightly from the memory of the cold, but he gathers his resolve. This is important, probably the most important thing he has ever done and nothing is going to make him run away from it. The only thing he can do right now is to return to that store and keep asking Shindou questions, and that is exactly what he is planning to do in the morning.
Determination or not, it takes Akira a long time to go to sleep that night and when he finally manages he dreams about ice encasing him an ice cold claw prying his chest open, slowly devouring everything he is. He can feel the memories of everything he finds important being pulled away and he can’t find his voice to scream. The air in his lungs is ice cold and heavy and the world around him is breaking apart.
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