January 30, 1070 AS
Hazō had an itch. An itch that went unscratched for ages, for literal
years, a constant drain on his mood. A longing whose embers had been rekindled
when he least expected it, but
then there were more urgent plans to follow. As it was a staple of Mist culture, he could hardly have brought it up in Fire. As everyone in Team Uplift knew better than to let him have his way, he'd been cruelly denied for two years in the cold. Oh, of course, he had other things to do - people to talk to, and replacements, of many, many exciting kinds - but no ersatz can replace the original obsession.
Yes, ever since he saw the Chūnin Exam proctors playing Go, Hazō had been positively itching to play his favourite game again, time and again plagued by the unwillingness of the philistines he called kin and compatriots. It was predicted that even
the best researchers in clone AI would not make their clones challenging for humans before another hundred years. Never mind working on making his own clones recognise the two different colours of stones. Doomed to live in an unenlightened age, Hazō sighed. At least the Seven Path breeze was nice, and the grass soft. He would endure, miserably, but ever onwards.
A basso cough from behind him made Hazō jerk around, eyes going wide as his reflexes readied him for an attack.
"Oh, Cannai," he said in relief. "I didn't see you there."
"I am aware. A word, Summoner?" The massive Dog turned and strode away across the prairie, Hazō following alongside.
They had gone twenty yards before Hazō noticed the silence.
Cannai was...
solid would be the closest word in human speech. Hazō was only now realizing that, every moment he had spent with Cannai, there had been a sense of the mighty dog's presence. It was like the presence of the earth beneath your feet: So prevalent that you didn't think about it, but always there. Solid, deep, bearing you up and loaning you its strength, its touch carefully gentled so as not to harm the fragile creatures that walked across its surface. That presence was gone. Hazō could feel nothing from the Alpha of the Dog Clan.
"Sir?"
"Just a bit farther, Summoner. I wish privacy."
Hazō swallowed nervously and tried to keep his mouth shut.
"Do not worry. My presence may feel imposing, but no harm will come to you. I am taking care to treat the situation with gravity, for I feel there is an issue."
After a good minute of pondering, Hazō decided he was, overall, reassured by Cannai's words.
They travelled for ten minutes before Cannai stopped and turned to face Hazō.
"Summoner, I worry. You represent my only contact with the Human Path, and one of the rare allies I have by choice, by art, and by definition through this bond we share. You seem currently to act in a fashion similar to Kakashi's, at his worst. I need you to be helped and helpful, as a subordinate, as an ally, and as a being to which I cannot wish but the best."
"Oh." Hazō had not realised how outwardly his mood showed, or that of course Cannai would be able to read his face from any angle at any time. Solitude does not exist on the Seventh Path if Clan Bosses can see, hear, and feel through their entire lands.
"As the Alpha, I have authority over tens of thousands, but also duty. To provide, to help, to 'uplift', as I believe you once said. Is there anything I or the Dog Clan can do to ensure your recovery?"
"Sir, I hadn't realised how broody I must have seen. It's a trifle, really. I just miss a game from my youth, one I played with my mother. One of these days I'll surely meet another who can play Go and scratch that itc-
Cannai's tongue lolled out in amusement. "Was
that all? This is reassuring, Summoner. My presence should not be required elsewhere in the coming hours, and this could even prove interesting. I have been known to play, although doubtless the Seventh Path and the Human Path have not shared lore for quite some time, so I may not play as a human would." His tone stayed flat, but his eyes were sparkling as those of a Hoshigaki trying not to laugh.
Hazō was dumbfounded. "You know the game? Sir?"
"I believe that is in fact what I just said." If eyes could sparkle twice at the same time, this was what Cannai's were doing. His metaphysical
presence, comforting as much as it weighed heavily on all beings close to him, was slowly returning.
o-o-o-o
The early game had been going relatively well for Hazō. Cannai's jōseki were severely outdated, but tricky. It only made sense - over the course of several centuries, Mist lore had expanded, refuted openings and reanalysed others, but it meant that some excellent moves that were only slightly less good than newer ones were abandoned, then all but forgotten. All but. No plan survives contact with
an anagraphophile a very careful planner opposite. And no (née-)Kurosawa can be beaten at an exercise in
rote-learnt movements. Hazō knew old, obsolete sequences after one reading of an old, obsolete book simply by going through the motions as he played his way through chapters. Usually, his games did not go much further than that phase. A trained Iron Nerve is simply unbeatable at the opening. Mari said it was "an insufferable quirk". Noburi said he was "an insufferable prick". Kei had no interest in playing a game that the Frozen Skein rendered trivial. But Cannai... Cannai had yet to learn.
The middle portion of the game seemed to be closing to an end. Hazō's early lead had been valiantly defended, but Cannai... Cannai was intelligent. And trickier than Hazō expected of one who spoke so frankly. Vicious trick moves, pushing him to the edge of his ability. He had built a wide zone of influence with unexpected forcing hands, moves Hazō was forced to answer lest he effectively resign. The framework thus created was thick, hard to reduce, and every poke to reduce its potential from Hazō's own territory would be answered easily, ensuring impenetrable walls and a lump amount of points, snatching an easy victory in few moves.
Hazō had to act. Reducing was out of the question, and expanding his own points in the few remaining neutral areas would never be sufficient. Cannai's plan was simple, and he had the upper hand. So naturally Hazō had but one choice: invade.
He set his face, resolute, and placed a stone smack in the middle of Cannai's prospective territory. As he did, the gentle breeze started to pick up into a stronger wind. He looked up. Cannai's eyes were fire.
"This is my land."
On retrospect, coming at the Clan Alpha, first and last line of defence for his pack and land, with "invasion" as his mindset was perhaps one of Hazō's worst ideas. Well, one of the worst he had this week. At least it was rather ill-advised.
"Summoner, this is my land. I own it. I welcomed you onto the board, and shared it almost equally with you as a play member, and you have betrayed me. I will not forfeit the game in the heat of the moment, but you are not welcome in that corner of the goban. Go back to yours. Attempt to defend its walls, eventually, after all the groups are no longer quite so undefined, I will allow us to proceed to the endgame. At that point we shall return to this move and you and I will have words." As he spoke these words, the trees, the clouds, and the rolling hills seemed all to loom above and around Hazō menacingly.
He gulped. "Sir—"
"We will have words in the review. Talking is, after all, to be kept at a minimum during the game. Get that stone out of my territory."
Hazō sighed inwardly as he picked up the stone and placed it on a more consensual intersection. His invasion was well thought-out, and this was strictly game-legal. Yet again, he could not
really play. Sore losers, all of them.