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Though Akane said he would stop being himself, he didn't know what that truly meant.
He stared blankly at the board, at the small stones scattered across nineteen lines, as if they were fragments of his thoughts, incomplete and meaningless.
This was the first time in his life that his intelligence felt inadequate.
The first time, his logic couldn't reach.
The first time, his confidence trembled.
So this is what it feels like…
To be overwhelmed by yourself.
Across the table, the replica sat with lazy composure. His fingers rested against his chin, posture impeccable, as if carved from the same stillness as the white void itself.
Even with the same face, same eyes, same calm breath, Akane could feel the difference. There was an abyss between them.
"He's me," Akane thought. "But not me."
While he strained to calculate, the replica simply existed, as though he needed no effort to think.
It was unbearable, that same expression, that same voice, acting as though it had already surpassed him.
He dropped another stone on the board, absent-mindedly.
The replica replied immediately, same move, same formation, symmetry again.
A meaningless cycle.
The game had become a loop, neither side advancing nor yielding.
Each time Akane tried to provoke change, the replica matched him perfectly, as if mocking his every attempt to "break free."
And yet, the replica looked entertained not by the game, but by Akane's struggle.
Then the replica spoke, softly, almost gently.
"You're confused, aren't you?"
Akane didn't respond.
"Despite your grand declaration," the replica continued, "you don't know where to start. You declared you'd stop being yourself, but that was just a line. You don't even know what that means."
His tone darkened.
"Like a child that is afraid, afraid of what he'll lose."
Then his expression changed. The playfulness drained away, replaced by a calm so absolute it was almost cruel.
"Father will be disappointed, you know."
The words hit like a stone, shattering glass.
Akane's head snapped up, his breath sharp.
"What," he said hoarsely, "did you just say?"
The replica's grey eyes reflected the crimson now flaring in Akane's, a faint light that spread outward, tinting his vision red like blood.
"What do you even know?" Akane's voice cracked, malice and despair seeped out from his voice, as if not his own.
"Everything," the replica replied, without hesitation.
"How many times must I say it? I am you, Akane."
He leaned forward slightly, the corners of his lips twitching.
"I know your confusion. Your fragility. Your weakness. The way you overthink. The way you fear. The way you hide that fear under the word 'rationality.'"
He placed a white stone on the board, cutting Akane's shape in half.
The sound was soft, but it echoed in Akane's chest like a verdict.
"And deep down," the replica went on, "you keep asking: why are you so different from me, if you are myself?"
He gestured lightly toward himself, eyes narrowing.
"The answer is simple. I'm not different. I'm the endpoint of what you want to be: logical, rational, unshaken. The one who controls all outcomes. The one who protects everything by understanding everything."
"I am the result of your pursuit."
Akane's fingers curled into fists, knuckles turning pale.
The Go stone between his fingers cracked under the pressure, and a thin red line appeared across his hand.
Blood.
A thing that shouldn't exist in this world.
The replica watched with faint amusement.
"Think, Akane. Isn't that what you always tell yourself? Think harder. So do it now. Use your brain."
For a long time, there was only silence.
Then Akane exhaled slowly, loosening his grip.
He closed his eyes.
The replica tilted his head, watching him in silence.
After a while, his voice softened, not mockery now, but something closer to recognition.
"Sometimes the self just needs a little push."
He leaned back, arms folded, and closed his eyes.
"Take your time. This game is for you, not me."
Akane sat motionless.
His thoughts scattered, fragments of memory rising and fading.
The laughter of his siblings. His mother's voice.
His father's calm tone when teaching him something complex, yet simple.
The faint smell of smoke and books in their home.
"You know? People know something because they actively want to know of 'how', " his father used to say.
"They are simply curious ones, they form their own guesses of how the world works, actively proving their own ideal, by then can they proudly say of what they found."
"Then, Akane, someday you will find it yourself, a situation where you must think and guess about how things go."
Data. Observation. Conclusion.
So this is just like an experiment, Akane thought.
And he's just another result waiting to be proven wrong.
His body trembled, but his mind began to clear.
He remembered why he played this game. Not to win. Not to prove anything. But to understand.
He opened his eyes.
The red in them had dimmed, now glowing faintly within the grey, no longer rage, but equilibrium.
"Can I think for a moment?" he asked quietly, eyes fixed on the board.
"Of course," the replica said, smiling faintly. "After all, the one who's being tested is you."
---
Minutes passed.
Then Akane reached forward and placed a single black stone, gentle, deliberate, no aggression.
The replica opened his eyes and mirrored him, white following black.
The sound of each move rang clearly in the void.
Click.
Click.
Click.
A slow rhythm, like breath.
The board began anew, clean of old tension.
Every stone was placed with reflection, each move probing, not controlling.
Akane's thoughts flowed naturally, like waves returning to shore.
He remembered the replica's earlier words, echoing through his mind:
"You've always sought to become more than who you are, yet you never defined what 'you' means."
"Wisdom lies in knowing when not to play. When to let the board breathe."
"You never let the board breathe. You rush to control, to dominate. Can you resist that part of yourself?"
"You're still playing safe. Still afraid of chaos. Still chasing the right move."
"Logic is a cage. You rely too much on knowledge."
Each phrase reverberated like an echo.
Akane let them settle, not as accusations, but as data. As facts to be examined.
The right move.
Control.
Domination.
Logic.
Knowledge.
His eyes drifted across the board, following the black and white stones, tracing their boundaries.
They weren't enemies. They were definitions, contrasting yet necessary.
Then… what am I?
A question arose in his heart, quiet but unrelenting.
Not who am I, but what.
He realized then: his entire life, he had sought to define everything.
To find the correct answer. To know the why.
But this game had no correct answer, only patterns, rhythms, and coexistence.
He looked at the replica across from him.
"Maybe there's no perfect move," Akane murmured.
The replica's eyes glimmered faintly. "Now you're starting to see."
The next few moves flowed effortlessly.
Akane didn't overthink. He placed each stone as if following intuition, letting the board "breathe," as the replica had said.
Black spread like a shadow; white curved around it like moonlight.
Two forces coexisting, no longer war, but dialogue.
Replica smiled faintly, but his tone remained calm. "You're finally playing differently."
"Not differently," Akane said. "Honestly."
His eyes deepened, not red now, but luminous, like a whirlpool of light and shadow merging.
A faint hum filled the air. The void around them rippled, as though the world itself responded.
The Replica flashes an interesting smile, and with a quiet voice. "So… you found it."
Akane shook his head slightly. "No. I stopped looking for something that wasn't there at all."
For the first time, he placed a stone completely at random, no pattern, no plan.
It landed with a soft click in the center of the board.
The most meaningless, yet the most meaningful point.
Replica stared at it, then laughed softly.
"You just placed a stone for no reason."
"Not for no reason," Akane replied. "Its for myself."
The replica's smile widened, not mockingly now, but almost proudly.
"Then you finally understand the purpose of this game."