Hikaru No Go Fan Fiction ❯ Hikaru no Highlander ❯ A Young Prodigy ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Hello, my name is Hikaru Shindo. If you really want to know my story, I shall tell you that it begins in the mountains near Izumo. It was there that I was born for the very first time…

“Hikaru…” a familiar voice cried out, slowly edging the boy towards the waking world. The person behind the voice clearly frustrated by the abundance of sleepiness within the boy, cried louder, “HIKARU!” It was at this point that the boy shook where he lay and fell out of bed. He rubbed his forehead in pain after picking himself off the floor.
“What do you wake me early for, Fujiwara?” Hikaru Shindo loved his friend Fujiwara-no Sai in the brotherly way that heterosexually-inclined people do, but never appreciated it when awoken with a startle. His friend, who looked unusually feminine for a male teenager, had that peculiar smile seemingly from ear to ear as was typical of one of the best Go players in the kingdom.
“Hikaru Shindo!” Fujiwara-no Sai enthusiastically cried. “Today is the Go match between teenage schoolboys in this kingdom! Are you going to participate?”
Hikaru scratched his head. He’d really had other things in mind, but found it extraordinarily difficult to refuse that familiar–almost creepy–smile that never faded from Fujiwara’s face. “I…really didn’t plan on it,” he almost shamefully admitted. “I’d planned on honing my swordsmanship skills further today with a new training regimen that Ikako-sensei is teaching.”
Fujiwara shivered a moment. “Eeesh. I’d hate having a female sensei in swordsmanship. There’s so many things that a man can teach better than a woman.” Fujiwara had not seen his friend in sword training for at least a week, and thus began to wonder if Hikaru’s skill had waned any since their last spar with bokutos. “By the way, my friend, how is your skill with the blade?” Hikaru grinned and drew his blade with lightning speed, holding it firm against his friend’s neck, playfully yet carefully making sure not to cut him.
“I’ve been upgraded to metal blades for the past three weeks of training,” Hikaru explained. “Probably because of the bandits and enemy soldiers that have been attacking, they want all young men about seventeen or so trained to fight. I just hit the mark of seventeen last week.” Fujiwara waved and began to walk away.
“I’m disappointed that you won’t be participating in the Go trials. Then again, I’d still wipe the floor with you.”
Hikaru had intended to shout, “In your dreams, Fujiwara!” but before he could, the warning bell sounded. He dreaded the ringing of the huge warning bell; it meant enemy soldiers or bandits were attacking. It registered in him instantly and he tore off like a speeding bullet running as fast as his young legs would carry him. Fujiwara-no Sai, and the group he’d joined, heard it a half-second after Hikaru and the boys who were best in the swordsman training program did, but even that was too late. By the time Fujiwara had turned around with intent to shout, “Hikaru! WAIT!” he no longer had need to because his friend was already fast becoming a small speck as he dashed out of the immediate village area.

There always were either bandits or soldiers of enemy kingdoms’ armies attacking ours back in the days of feudal Japan. I’d only been in battle twice before, so my skill hadn’t hardened to the level that even some of the older boys in my group had risen to. Even so, each time I’d managed to remain fully intact. My skills were sufficient to best almost every warrior that came my way. That morning, by the time ten minutes had passed, however, I was on my knees, praying I’d gone with Fujiwara-no Sai to his group’s stupid Go trials.

Fujiwara-no Sai had seen countless young men and women whipped with sticks for acting out of line in their games of Go, and had even seen some prominent figures in other kingdoms’ Go societies killed by means of beheading as punishment for cheating with his kingdom’s lord. Nothing could have prepared him for the ultimate cheater of all. It was the cheater that had taken from him something he cherished. Standing on the battlefield, no more than six minutes after the rebellion had been quelled, at least a dozen young men’s bodies lay strewn across the scorched grassy landscape. From the corner of his eye, he recognized immediately one particular teenage boy with a sword protruding from his heart as he lay dead on the grass.
It was Hikaru Shindo.
Immediately upon seeing this–and the sight sinking in–the world itself seemed to blink, and in that moment, that blink, all time stopped for everyone save for Fujiwara-no Sai who dashed towards his friend, and Hikaru Shindo, who seemed stuck in a moment he could not escape from. The raven-haired Fujiwara fell to a kneeling position beside his deceased best friend, and clutching his friend’s head in his hands, held Hikaru’s lifeless head against his white robe. Staring into the cold, frightened, shocked eyes of his friend, Fujiwara stained his friend’s face with his tears. “HIIIIKKKKKAAAAAARRRRRUUUUUUUU!” The furious screech against the horrible finality of death seemed to last a full minute.

I had died, in the most honorable of ways. I died defending my home village against an opposing kingdom. A few minutes of nothing but sheer darkness is what I experienced, and then I strangely seemed to be awakened by an intense screech of my name let out by my best friend Fujiwara-no Sai…

“F…Fu…Fujiwara…”
Fujiwara-no Sai instantly let go of his best friend’s head, letting him return to a flat position in the grass. Curiously he stared into the once again lifeless eyes of Hikaru Shindo, he screamed when suddenly his dead friend moved his hands and blinked. Yet horrifyingly, he spoke again.
“Fujiwara…” Hikaru weakly stammered. “Why’d you wake me up…”
The raven-haired Go prodigy could scarcely imagine what he looked at. “Hi…ka…ru?!” he uttered, waveringly under a raspy voice. Quickly though, his tone sharpened. “YOU’RE ALIVE?!” He hastily yanked the blade from his friend’s heart, and predictably the boy let out a very shrill scream of pain. However, much to the shock of both, the wound healed as though no damage had been dealt when Hikaru was impaled through the heart. Hikaru forced himself to first a seated, then a standing position. Examining himself, he looked at his flabbergasted best friend in complete shock.
“How the hell am I alive?” he wondered to himself out loud.

That’s how it all began, dear reader. Dying in a battlefield brought me back to the living world. Later I learned that I had arisen to a race of select few humans that populated the various corners of the earth. I had not been resurrected; I had been awakened as an immortal. My first mentor, an immortal by the name of Sak-Riena, a female priestess from ancient Egypt, had lived a thousand years before I was even born, and she taught me what it meant to be what I am now. I hated the prospect of living forever; I wanted someday to rejoin my fallen comrades in Heaven, and that’s why I clung to tightly to the concept of The Prize when I learned of it. You see, to kill an immortal can only be done by the decapitating of them, and with it you take their power. The three main rules of our combats are mostly unknown to mortals, so I will tell you them, starting with our golden rule.
In the end there can be only one.
What will The Last One get? The Prize. A gift beyond comprehension; The Prize is that the last immortal shall have the powers of every immortal to ever live. This is more than enough power to either rule the universe forever, or live out a peaceful, MORTAL life unhindered in the end. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather die and rejoin my friends one day.
Speaking of friends, I hated the prospect of one day burying my friend Fujiwara-no Sai. That is, until one day when he was thirty he had gotten on the wrong side of a ninja clan. He put up a decent sword fight, but inevitably his heart was literally cut out. Imagine my terror seeing his face as mine had been the day I became what I am. Imagine my sheer surprise and delight when he awoke…just as I did…
To take place in The Game.
To compete for The Prize.

As I know them, these are the rules: you cannot fight on holy ground, and it doesn’t matter who considers it holy. Second, no mortal shall know of what we are; this one is frequently broken and scarcely punished. Third, you must realize that one day, your fellow immortal shall become your enemy. For now socialize with them and be friends if you wish, but realize: if they stand between you and The Prize, inevitably they must die by your hand or you by theirs. And finally, remember the golden rule: in the end, there can be only one.


Two figures, walking down the street, tightly gripped each other as they shivered in the cold winter’s air. Younger of the two by one year, the teenage girl with light brown hair down past her shoulders giggled as she noticed her boyfriend, the male teen, reaching around her shoulder and pulling her closer to him. They both smiled and he knew that he loved her, he just wanted to keep dating her until he knew more about this strange feeling he had called love. She, however, seemed confused as to whether or not she actually felt love for him in the typical movie-sense that she’d gotten from watching all of America’s popular culture movies regarding love. She knew she enjoyed his company and she liked it when he read poetry to her or taught her how to play Go a little bit a at time. The boy, whose hair just barely hung below his chin (looking very girlish for a boy), had been around for quite a bit longer than he looked, and he’d even experienced love before multiple times, yet he never exactly understood it.
“Akira?” the girl gingerly asked. He looked her in the eyes with his glance–the glance that gave you the impression that he was listening to no one except you–and caused her to giggle. “Do you love me?”
“As the sun lights up the…aw crap.” They both burst out laughing as he faltered mid-sentence. She smiled wider and remembered that this particular event (which was a regular occasion) was one of the things she found cute about him–he’d always attempt a poetic line on her…and fail miserably. He did this every time he tried to be rhythmical; he’d initially try something that sounded good, only to think of a conclusion and lose his train of thought after realizing that most of his conclusions made no sense.
“You always try these lines on me, Akira!” she noticed. He still hadn’t stopped laughing until she finished speaking. “Don’t you ever think of them beforehand? You know, try to impress the girl?”
“You’re right,” he admitted, with a severe degree of humility. “I can’t ever think of a proper ending to my ‘lines.’”
The two walked towards her apartment, holding tightly to each other for warmth, when footsteps were heard behind them. It didn’t phase the girl–for she never before had been bothered by people–but Akira stopped dead in his tracks. It was that he was bothered that bothered her. “A…Akira?” she wondered, as he began to walk towards a dark alleyway, and lead her with him, holding her out of harm’s way. “What’s going on?” The dark-haired boy turned around, pushing his girlfriend behind him to have her out of danger.
“Toya,” the leader of the group of teens that had been following him stated. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment, Akira Toya.” Akira raised a confused eyebrow, not initially able to place the face he saw, yet recognized somehow.
“You’re…” desperately struggled for a name. “Vichei?”
The gang leader winked, and drew his blade. Akira saw that it was a European style broadsword, not the usual Japanese Katana that he was used to fighting against. “You remember my brother, Toya? You beheaded him on the shores of Okinawa some eighty years ago?”
The girl, taking shelter behind her boyfriend Akira, inquired, “Akira? What’s going on? What’s he talking about?”
Akira was too stunned by what the gang leader had said to pay his girlfriend much mind. “That was almost a century ago, Ukochi!” he cried. “I didn’t think you’d remember!” As she took shelter behind him, Akira’s girlfriend shook her head. A century ago, she wondered? What the hell were they talking about?
Vichei shook his head. “No one disgraces the family of Ukochi Vichei and lives to tell about it!” Before the girl with Akira had a chance to question him about it, Vichei swung his blade to collide with Akira’s, nearly throwing off his timing. However, the dark-haired teen easily countered many of the gang member’s attacks. That is, until Vichei struck a violent slash across the teen’s gut, spilling blood on the ground. A loud scream preceded a thunderous gunshot as a single bullet plowed straight through the heart of Akira Toya and into the pavement behind him, just ever so scarcely missing the girl taking refuge behind him.
The girl screamed and caught the boy she’d loved as he fell into her grasp. “NOOOO!” she screamed. “AKIRA!” With tears she glanced at the gang leader, sneering at the sight of Akira’s blood on his blade. The gang member behind Vichei smiled as he cocked his gun.
“Hmph…you polished that one off, Ideki,” he announced for the others, not the least of which was Vichei. With an important matter, Vichei turned to his subordinate.
“Ideki! Kutado!” he reminded them. “Akira’s not dead!” He drew his blade high above his head in order to correct the previously stated problem. “Not until I behead him, that is.”
A third gang member leaned in close to Ideki and Kutado, to more properly explain to his confused comrades the reason behind the inexplicable survival of Akira. “Toya’s an immortal like our leader, remember? AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!” All the gang members turned behind them to see the third one near the back, as the business end of a sword impaled him through the chest mid-statement. Following his scream, the mysterious figure that killed him yanked the sword from the young man’s body and let him collapse to the ground. The second mysterious figure, with no more than a single sword swipe, cleaved all the gang members neatly in two except Vichei who stood staring at them. He then leapt above the now-alone gang leader and hoist Akira into his arms after sheathing his blade, and took off with the girl following him closely.
“Follow me if you want to live!” he shouted at the girl.
“HEY!” Vichei shouted. “MY KILL! MY QUICKENING!” His attention rapidly turned to the taller and more mature looking of the strangers who stood pointing his sword at his throat.
“Well, then,” the man remarked, “if you lost him, you’ll just have to take mine.”
“I WILL!” Vichei screamed. He drew his blade backwards over his shoulder and charged the tall stranger. Mid-stride, he recalled that the strange figure was a man who’d lived hundreds of years even before himself, and it threw off his train of thought by causing him worry about losing. It was a loss of concentration no longer than a microsecond–but it was long enough for the man.
“You’ve already lost,” whispered Fujiwara-no Sai, the stranger who’d challenged Vichei. A move that had been taught to him by a sensei from ancient Greece, Sai stepped out of the gangster’s way, then performed a spin with his arm and sword extended straight out. During the spin he slashed open a straight line on the gangster’s back, which caused an intense scream followed by Vichei falling to his knees. At that moment, he stood above his opponent, who’d dropped his sword in agony.

“WHAT is going on here?!” shouted the girl, demanding answers from the mysterious stranger. “Who are you? HOW is Akira here still alive after that shot?!” Hikaru cleared his throat.
“You may not believe this,” he began to explain, “but Akira here is one of a powerful race of humans like my friend and myself are…we’re immortals.”
Her eyes widened; clearly this was too much at once. “Immortals?! You’ve gotta be kidding me; you’re expecting me to buy the load of crap that you guys are immortals?!” She turned to her boyfriend, who wiped sweat from his brow as he felt his chest to make sure the bullet hole had sealed itself up. “Akira! You can’t believe them!”
Akira shook his head, and showed her the now-healed wound. “It’s true,” he admitted. “I was going to try and explain it to you eventually.” She shook her head; she refused to believe in immortality.
“No! This HAS to be some kind of trick. And here, I thought you were NORMAL.” she stood up and took off running.
“Yuri, wait!” Akira argued, but it was too late. She’d been too long gone to turn around in just a moment’s time. Akira turned to Hikaru as they sat on the steps. “Hey, man, I’m glad you saved my hide back there.” Suddenly, a realization hit him. “Whoa, isn’t your friend still fighting?” he leaned in closer to his fellow immortal. “You know, she looks pretty manly for a chick.” Hikaru laughed, this wasn’t the first time he’d experienced a comment of this nature.
“Actually,” he corrected, “you mean he looks pretty girly for a guy. Fujiwara-no Sai‘s of the male gender.”
Akira’s eyes widened. “No way…! Are you sure? I mean…did you check?”
Hikaru rolled his eyes as they began walking back towards the battle scene. “No I haven’t checked. I’ve never needed to be that sure of it.”

“Get up,” demanded Sai. “I never behead unarmed opponents.” Vichei grabbed his sword and grinned, taking a single swipe as he pulled himself up. Sai easily dodged the strike, and impaled his foe through the stomach, withdrawing his blade quickly. They glared at each other challengingly.
“So who are you, she-man?” Vichei insulted his foe.
“For your information, I am all man, and my name is Fujiwara-no Sai.” His opponent said nothing, merely laughing as he took a quick swipe directly at Sai’s neck. Sai was not fazed, and thus he did a flip leap, landing behind his opponent. The very instant he landed, he swung his body around, holding his sword extended straight outward with one hand, his opponent tightly grasping his broadsword as he spun as well. However, thanks to Sai’s longer sword, he hit the mark first, taking Vichei’s head off with one swift motion. He sheathed his katana and grinned victoriously as his foe’s body fell backwards straightly like a falling piece of timber. Sai then held his arms outstretched as he felt the building electrical force of the Quickening. The Quickening was a powerful lightning-like force of energy that made immortals live forever and instantly heal all wounds save for decapitation. Each immortal gained that which belonged to another immortal upon killing them.
“AAAAAaaaahhhhh!” Sai’s intense scream permeated the alley as the lightning force of Vichei’s Quickening surged through every inch of his body. Bolts streaked through him and out of him, blasting out windows on the buildings, frying clothes hanging on clotheslines strung between buildings, and throwing dust and other small debris into the air. The powerful tempest raged on for a full thirty seconds longer before dying off, leaving a trembling Sai panting as he forced himself up. It felt new every time; a thousand years’ worth of killing evil immortals and he still couldn’t get used to the power of each one’s Quickening entering him.
Hikaru surveyed the damage dealt to the buildings’ side walls and then his friend. “Well now, Fujiwara,” he joked. “You’re a regular demolition crew!”
Fujiwara shook his head. “I still can’t get used to the surge of other immortals’ power adding themselves to my own Quickening,” he admitted. “It takes me by surprise even when I see it coming.” Recovering from his surprise, Fujiwara noted change in his muscle mass. Previously he’d been skinny as a rail, but as of the end of the battle with Vichei, he looked more like an Austrian bodybuilder. “What the…?” he uttered, noting that his clothes didn’t fit as well as they had before.
Akira smirked. “Ah, that indeed tells me you’ve killed him and taken his Quickening,” he told Sai. “Most of Vichei’s power came from the fact that he was built like a tank.” Sai regarded his new muscle mass with delight; Hikaru rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I’ve been trying to track down an evil immortal who delights in killing mortals and immortals alike in large quantities.” Both Hikaru and Fujiwara seemed interested right after hearing that.
“Tell us about him,” Hikaru requested.
Akira nodded, as if talking about him would summon him. “Well, if you insist. He was born a few decades before I was; he gained his immortality when he was killed in his sleep by bandits. I guess he went nuts and just started killing people. Now he takes pleasure in taking lives. I am his son; as you may know, immortals cannot father children, but he fathered me before he became immortal. That‘s why ‘Toya‘ is not my surname; it‘s a ruse I‘ve taken to protect my identity.”
“What’s his sword style?” inquired Fujiwara. “And does he have any aliases?”
“Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryu,” answered Akira, “and yes; they call him the Hitokiri Battosai.”Converting /tmp/php4Jfy4D to /dev/stdout