Disclaimer: I don't own Hikaru No Go, never did and never will. :)
Author's notes: This fic is part 1 out of about 5, so sorry if the action hasn't started yet. I promise, it'll come soon! This is just a scene that opens everything and is rather necessary. Ummm… just thought I'd come up with something . Flames are welcome, they'd help me improve and will probably tell me how hopeless I am at writing so that I should stop writing crap _ Gomen… don't kill me if this really sucks. ^.^ Read and review~!
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*~ In the Shadows~*
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The snow fell, its gentle descent like a cloud of feathers whirling and dancing in the air.
He stood in the midst of the swirling mass, the delicate snowflakes landing softly upon his flowing ebony hair. The landscape was brilliant, dazzling; a world encased in a flawless white shroud.
A shroud indeed. A beautiful shimmering prison, in which he lay eternally condemned. Had the gods intended a fate so cruel for him? He glanced round, taking in the cold perfection of it all , the god-like quality that the world around seemed to possess…
Perhaps then, it is all my fault? To desire the impossible so ardently that I forced myself into an eternal limbo? All I wanted was to reach that ultimate pinnacle of perfection!
It was finally his, that perfection that lay like a shining, unblemished pearl that lay at the end of his thousand year struggle. He sought the hand of god, the beauty of ultimate perfection.
And he had been rewarded. The bitter irony of it all.
I never wanted this…
The glowing amethyst eyes dulled with pain, the bright orbs clouded with tears. His vision blurred, solace eluding his grasp. He let out a loud cry, eyes affixed heavenward, imploring the gods for his release. He had to find a way out. He did what he would never have dreamt of doing –he ran. Ran away from the pain of it all, blindly plunging deep into the snow, heading for a direction unknown.
He would never have run. That was the cowardly thing to do. He would face the challenges head on, determined to use his skill to achieve victory. But when one plays the game with gods, fate and chance are on the wrong side. So he ran.
His shoes left their imprints , his rapid footsteps quickly covered by a blanket of falling snow. Still he dashed wildly, hoping that by some remote chance the gateway out would reveal itself.
Kami-sama! I need to escape, I need to get out! I can't be trapped here! Anywhere, even another Go-ban, it dosen't matter!
He stopped suddenly, his hair fanning out behind him. Shadows flitted past, their indistinct forms a fleeting vision.
He could have sworn that he had seen Torajiro.
He had also seen the Heian court ladies, their plump forms adorned richly in embroided silk and hair set with precious ornaments. They giggled as they passed by, elegantly lifting their silk fans to cover their smiles.
Wait! Wait for me Torajiro! I want to see you again! Please, don't go and leave me alone in this place! Please, Torajiro! I've always wanted to see you again… You were taken from me, and I from Hikaru. Please, you're the only remnant of the life I once led. Come back!
He ran forward, outstretched hands groping in the semi-darkness.
The bamboo groves yielded nothing. Emerald leaves waved softly in the wind, their depths obscured from the world.
Torajiro…I…I…
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He sat in the bamboo grove, watching, waiting amongst the shadows. His hand was poised in mid-air, a stone gracefully held between his fingers.
The board gleamed with its intricate monochrome pattern, where black and white danced together. Order proceeding from chaos, meaning from insignificance. Where black and white played out their eternal struggle for dominance.
He played out his games, the important, the insignificant, yet all mersmerising in their brilliance. He lost himself there, in the game, the moves flowing from his hands with ease. He ran through his older games, those whose history spanned more than half a century.
Stones fell methodically, the sound of stone upon wood oddly comforting. Go was his only solace, his only purpose in life.
But here, he had been forced from it.
It takes two
brilliant stars of equal genius to reach the hand of god. One alone is
powerless. Two will bring the blinding revelation upon the world.
He replayed another game, lost in thought, until he realised that he had stopped at the fifth hand. That was odd…. it was white's turn, and white had not replied. Then it struck him—he was white. Then why hadn't he played? His memory held no further moves… the game seemed to end there.
The final game on earth…. The last game with Hikaru… The game that I never finished.
Tears flowed down his face in rivulets, freezing on his cheek even before he could brush them away. The wind stung his face, the blizzard of snow obscuring his vision. The snowflakes were dancing now, their delicate forms indistinct as they flitted lightly by. The wind hurried them on as it whipped mercilessly past, leaving in its wake only chill and regrets.
Regrets... Time soothes all pain… does it?
He toyed with his fan, stroking its slender form and using it as a shield against the pounding snow. His heavy silk clothes were almost oppressive in their weight, the folds of cloth swaying in the gale. His elegant features wan, drained of the warmth once present. The wind tugged wildly at his hair, enticing the graceful strands to break loose to whip round his head.
He closed his eyes, letting darkness settle gently over his vision, relishing the calmness and detachment that it afforded him Torajiro appeared in his mind, his smiling countenance giving him reassurance. The way Torajiro would shake his head and smile, the way his eyes would light up with laughter, the way his fingers placed each stone down…
They all came back as a rush to him. His heart wrenched with pain and longing, willing himself to return to the mortal realm. Those times that he had treasured, those days that were no more.
How ironic, he thought.
Once, I had asked for infinite time, so I could reach the hand of God. Now, I reside in a place where time and space were fluid, where entropy and randomness reign.
Time was no longer an issue. It was a curse.
Kami had a decidedly cruel sense of humour.
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He'd learnt too late.
*~One may not live solely for Go, lest one's heart grow cold and devoid of any dram of passion. Whereupon, one shall join the ranks of the many failures before him.~*
As for Hikaru… perhaps he wasn't so far beyond redemption after all.
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The snow had cleared, the landscape whitewashed and sparkling. Golden shafts of light illuminated the bamboo grove, piercing the canopy and bathing it in soft light. The shadows were gone, banished into the dark realm in which they belonged. For the first time, Fujiwara no Sai smiled a genuine smile, his violet eyes sparkling in the morning light.
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