?? / ?? / ????, ??:?? - Border of Ascension, Trial of The Path.
The two sat across from one another, with the Go board between them.
The pure white world had long since faded into a pale and endless silence; only the faint hum of light and some kind of foreign sound could be heard, existing beyond this space itself.
Akane took a slow breath, his face becoming dead serious.
His dead, ashen-grey eyes were looking at the board, thinking of something.
"If I cannot overcome myself, how can I face the world that took everything?" At the thought of this, the hands that were placed above his knees clenched.
"I absolutely cannot fail this game…," he clenched his jaw.
He had never played this game, but he knew a bit about it.
Go. Black and white stones. A war not of pieces, but of intent.
"The rule is simple," he murmured to himself, as if reciting from memory.
"Two sides alternate, placing stones on the board. To capture, you surround. To win, you control territory. No dice. No luck. Only your thought matters."
Across from him, the replica smiled faintly, chin resting on one hand.
"Heh, reciting the rules from the books won't help you master this game."
"Why won't you try it yourself right now?" his hand hushed toward the board.
"You'll learn as you play. That's how it always goes."
Akane's eyes traced the board, its nineteen lines stretching like a map of possibilities.
There was no emotion in his gaze, yet beneath that calmness, something stirred: calculation, curiosity, the faint thrill of an uncharted field.
Unexpectedly, a tinge of red could be seen in the depth of his grey eyes.
He reached out and placed his first white stone.
A small click echoed in the still air.
"I'll begin," he said.
The replica smirked, tilting his head. "That's how it is supposed to be right away. What's this? A random move? Or…."
He put his fingers on his lips, "a calculation or a trap? How fun!" Then he laughed carelessly.
Akane didn't answer.
His mind was already moving ahead, tracing invisible chains: if he plays here, I respond there, create pressure on the left side, open the diagonal—
But the replica was faster than him.
"With pleasure," he said, and placed his own stone, the sound calm, just as measured with precision.
The second move came near the center. Akane played low, patiently and defensively. The replica replied with a high approach, pressing forward.
They traded territory with each other and then probed each other's territory.
Akane traced the flow of moves with his fingers before each move; almost subconsciously, heaviness pulled his heart, and he was not as confident as before.
"Always stay calm, though it seems a play of intelligence. Who knows if he can read the emotion from my face?"
He looked to the other side with a calm face. The Replica was still as always, with even a little hint of boredom on his face.
"If I press on his upper side, he'll counter at the corner. But if I approach diagonally, I might build thickness instead." He placed his stone carefully, a probing step into unknown terrain.
Replica answered immediately, forming a keima shape, a small knight's move, elegant and threatening.
He cut off Akane's influence, blocking the expansion of his territory.
"Hey, what is this? I thought it would be a fun game." He yawned a bit and closed his eyes as if dozing off.
Akane ignored him; perhaps it's just a fluke or bluff from him to exploit my weakness.
The Replica opposite him opened one eye, seeing Akane's tense and serious face. He shook his head slightly, disappointed.
The first few turns flowed like a quiet current.
Black and white stones forming patterns across the board: clusters and walls, probes and traps.
Every few seconds, a move. Every few moves, a silent adjustment of posture in the game.
The two mirrors that is, testing, measuring, never rushing.
One of them had a bored and calm eye with a relaxed posture, and the other was plain and calculating, slightly hunched forward, hands on knees.
It was elegant.
It was suffocating.
At first, Akane felt the steady pulse of progress with his own play.
The foreign feeling of playing for the first time had disappeared, and with each play, he improved his own style and honed his thought.
"But why, why! Things don't seem to work as they seem to be?!" Akane lifted his gaze — the lifeless calm now edged with cold despair.
He tried to stay calm, but his own nerves mocked him — emotions refusing to bow to logic.
The Replica just stared back calmly, with a silent grin plastered over his face.
Then he took back his gaze from the Replica, back toward the board.
He understood his opponent's logic, naturally, since it was his own, and adjusted each move to counter it.
But the deeper the board grew, the rhythm was halted; progress slowed considerably.
"No, no, there must be something deeper behind that I should know, something I forgot?! What is it?!" he descended deeper, consumed by "Red," as his negative thoughts grew.
Then the replica began to speak casually.
"Here," he said, placing a stone on the lower side. "A weak spot in your territory. You played too aggressively early on. You're assuming I'll defend the corner, but you forgot the center influence you gave me three turns ago."
Akane said nothing, just keeping his silence, placing his next move deliberately.
Replica's eyes gleamed. "You're trying to stabilize your left group. Logical, you value efficiency. But that means your right flank will collapse in five moves."
He kept talking, narrating the game as if reading a script already written in stone.
"You calculate three moves ahead, not five," the replica continued.
Akane's hand froze midair. The words shouldn't have stung, but they did.
"Won't you just shut up." For the first time, Akane spoke; his lifeless gaze turned icy cold, gazing at the Replica. His eyes had entirely been replaced by crimson.
"Hahahahahahah, terrifying, terrifying! Why don't you calm down for a bit?" The Replica laughed at this, wiping the tears that spilled from his eyes.
Click. Click. Click.
As the board filled, small skirmishes broke out.
A single black stone pushed forward, instantly surrounded by three white ones.
Akane leaned his body forward, eyes narrowing. He placed another stone nearby, sacrificing the first to gain a better line.
Replica's brow rose. "A trade already? As expected, you're learning fast."
"It's not a trade," Akane replied. "It's a misdirection."
His next stone landed three spaces away, connecting the shapes like a sudden revelation. One move connected to the next to produce the expected result.
The captured stones were gone, but their absence built a wall, a line of intent.
Finally, a small hollow smile flickered on Akane's lips. "Territory isn't always where the stones stand."
Replica chuckled. "Philosophy in a board game. Fitting for you."
"…but theory without practice is empty after all."
They played on.
Fifth sequence —
Akane extended along the lower side, forming a long chain of stones.
Replica invaded instantly, cutting the formed shape in two.
A faint tension rose between them. Akane countered by building aji, a latent potential of attack, forming a trap that would only bloom after several turns.
Replica responded not by defending, but by imitating, creating his own aji on the opposite corner.
By the twelfth move, the symmetry had become perfect.
The board now looked like two copies of each other, both reflecting infinite recursion.
Akane now tries to feel the pattern on the board. Unknowingly, his face tightened at this; once again, they reached a stalemate.
He moved to disrupt symmetry, but every unconventional move was immediately shadowed by the Replica.
When Akane built a territory on the left, the Replica imitated one on the right.
When Akane attacked, the Replica countered with the exact same sequence of logic he would have used.
Each move is heavier than the last, as though a snowball had rolled down from a mountain.
Every prediction was correct, too correct.
The Go board was slowly becoming a parallel of each other, black matching white, white reflecting black, every line a perfect symmetry.
And then only now did Akane realize something.
No matter what he did, every path was known. Every plan was mirrored. Every trap was seen through before it was even conceived.
"You can read me," Akane muttered. Some thoughts flickered, and even the possibility that this game could not be won appeared like a sprout.
"Can I even win this?" He moved his red eyes toward the opposite side of him.
The replica looked up, eyes half-lidded with boredom. "You think so?"
He shook his head, sighing. "You still don't understand."
He placed another stone, and the echo of it was like quiet thunder.
"I'm not reading you. I am you."
The words lingered in the silence, more cutting than any accusation he could have thrown.
There was no victory here, no end.
The replica leaned back, resting his cheek against his knuckles, watching Akane's hesitation, rage, and despair, with faint amusement.
"You think this is about who's smarter? Who calculates faster?"
He laughed softly, without warmth. "You're still playing safe. Still afraid of chaos. Still chasing the 'right' move."
Akane placed another stone, but even before it touched the board, the Replica was already responding.
"Predictable. That's the best you could come up with? You're defending your weakness again, not striking mine."
The smile that followed was almost kind, yet merciless.
"Let me show you, Akane. Your 'logic' is nothing but a cage."
With slow precision, the replica played a sequence, every move dissecting Akane's intentions, every shape countered, every late form broken.
The black stones fell like raindrops, precise, inevitable. And then he spoke again, softly this time.
"You rely too much on knowledge," the replica said. "You think the board rewards those who think hardest. But knowledge only predicts what happens. Wisdom asks why."
Akane's fingers froze above the next stone.
The replica smiled, the first true smile since the game began.
"You understand it now? If not, then I'll tell you, rockhead."
He tapped the board. "I am you, Akane. Everything you could think of, I can think of it too. You cannot win by being yourself."
Silence.
Akane lifted his gaze once again, meeting his own eyes, those same cold, and watched in silence.
Akane's hand hovered above the board, fingers trembling once, only once.
Then, he spoke.
"Then," he said, voice low, hoarse,
"I'll stop thinking like myself."
The replica's grin widened, the air around them trembling with anticipation.
"Great. Now that's the fun."