Title: Tainted
Author: SVZ
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Disclaimer: I don't own Hikaru no Go.
Notes: Gen. Character death. The changes from past to present to past tense is intentional because my mind is weird.

Tainted

--

He never wanted Sai's name to be tarnished.

Sai might have been gone, but his legacy still lived through messageboards and websites, and in the minds of amateur and professional go players alike. Things had slowed down to a small drizzle of news or theories every few weeks or so, but many still clung to hope that Sai would appear again, even if it had been years. Hikaru knew because he made it a point to keep track of everything.

He wanted to keep Sai's name pure and untainted, but he didn't have a choice in this matter.

He logged on and waited for the first move.

The game was over, and his forehead was covered with sweat.

He wasn't surprised when his opponent resigned. In a hazy, dream-like logic, he hadn't expected to win-- but yet, he knew he wouldn't have lost.

He logged off immediately to avoid the storm of invites that would be sure to follow. He didn't want to face them. He felt unclean and disgusting, masquerading as someone he wasn't but yet it was something that couldn't be helped. He felt the unsatiable urge to wash his hands, but once he reached the bathroom, his stomach became sick.

After flushing the toilet, he washed his hands over and over again in icy cold water until it burned.

He wakes from his uneasy slumber a few hours later, and it's late in the evening. The insistent ringing of his cell phone causes him to fumble around awkwardly in the dark before putting an end of the latest single of L'arc en Ciel's.

“Hikaru.”

He didn't need to check for Caller ID. Hikaru closes his eyes.

Akira's voice is steady but there's a hollowness to it.

Hikaru knew.

“I'll be right there,” Hikaru promises, and hangs up.

He looks at his small, dark bedroom and finds himself looking out the window and to the moon. The moon is only a tiny crescent, but yet it illuminates the entire room.

It happened, Hikaru thinks to himself, and then grabs his keys and ran.

“He died happy,” Akira murmurs softly “He died after playing against his one true rival, and even though he lost... I think his spirit will rest in peace easily.”

A lump forms in Hikaru's throat and he stares at his sneakers, allowing his blond bangs to cover his eyes. He and Akira are wandering around the hospital; trying to avoid friends and acquaintances. Those people can wait.

“I think so too,” Hikaru manages to say.

Hikaru doesn't immediately notice when Akira stops walking, but he did hear the barely audible but sincere “thank you”.

Hikaru freezes for a few moments.

He knows.

He continues to walk without looking back, and Akira doesn't try to stop him. Before he knew it, he's outside facing the cool summer night. He keeps walking, not knowing where his legs will take him.

There's no need for him to sleep tonight.

Just a bit after six in the morning, he purchased the Go Weekly from the newsstands because he knew Amano-san would work hours overtime to fit it in. Touya's Meijin's death was too important to be dealt with next week, it had to be reported now. There was a long, well-written article with a picture of the late Go player, complete with a timeline of his life.

To Hikaru's surprise, there was a small but flattering article about Sai and Touya Kouyo's NetGo match and how many fans were overjoyed that he came back.

If only they knew...

His emotions spiraled as he re-read it. He was proud that he managed to pull it off, and he was believable. They thought he was genuine. It was a bit expected since he knew Sai's playing style better than anyone else. Sai's playing style was more tamed, a bit old-fashioned, and very well thought-out. He had to take care in making it different from his own. He felt accomplished, yet he felt that huge surge of guilt again.

He pretended to be Sai, and therefore tainted Sai's name, even if it was for a dying man's last request.

Hikaru smiled bitterly. Amano-san definitely outdid himself this time, and he hoped the man received a raise.

He tossed the newspaper into the nearest waste bin and did a quick check. He had enough money for a one-way ticket.

He hopped onto the next train to Innoshima.

-fin-

Comments and constructive criticism welcomed.

Originally posted 7.8.05.