A/N: I swear I was heading in a different direction with this piece, but as I was writing it, some parts of this fic just sort of took it over, and hey, before you know it, here we are. Enjoy!

Inevitability

i. — Meeting.

His father had gotten him the gōban for his fifth birthday, a completely typical present to receive as a boy with the passion for the game, and a father who currently went in and out of holding two to three titles of the same craft. It was strange, in that it had a bloodstain on it, but was made by a famous carpenter, and was rumored to be of the finest kaya, and once owned by Honninbo Shuusaku. The boy with looks strongly from his mother's side brightened immediately upon the opening of such a fine gift, and thanked his parents with tears in his eyes. Deciding that he would put it to use immediately, he rushed up to his room after the celebration had quieted and the adults went about their chatter.

As soon as he'd polished it and prepared to put one of his stones down on the surface of the nineteen-by-nineteen board, a voice interrupted him. "You really like this old man's game?" It's the voice of someone older than him, but the words and the intonation of his voice certainly make him seem as though they are roughly the same age. "What a drag."

Those startled green-black eyes studied the older boy, his mouth gaping wide. "I'm going to call the—"

"Ah, don't bother calling the cops, kid. Chances are, nobody but you can see me anyways." His saying this doesn't calm the child down in the slightest, and he looks ready to shout and carry out his threat, despite the truth of the matter. "You're my first visitor in a while, so you should be grateful I'm gracing you with my presence. Or something like that. Truth is, brat, I'm bored, and glad that someone can finally see me."

The boy furrows his brow and scowls. "I do not believe you are a ghost. In all of the stories, the ghosts had a purpose for haunting certain things, or regrets tying them to this world. From what I sense of you, you have no such things tethering you, and that means you are simply a bad person that has not quite made it to where they belong in the afterlife!"

"Wow, you are good," The older boy, with bleached bangs and a toothy smile flashed him a v for victory. "So, you gonna entertain me, or what? Should I do that whole, ooh, I'm gonna possess you, because I'm a bad ghoooostshindig?"

Kid—who has not yet named himself—frowns and looks ready to start up a fight with him. "Why are you in this board?"

"Ah, stop calling me 'you, you', all polite like that. Name's Shindou Hikaru. Last I checked, I was stabbed and fell on top of the damn thing, hence the bloodstain. Had it in my hands while I was runnin' somewhere, got caught, and here we are. It's been a few years, but I've never exactly been dormant, so I catch a game around my haunting grounds every once in a while. But that's it. I can't get far away from the thing, and people are scared off 'cause of the stain. So, I watch old dudes pretend to know how to play this shitty game every once in a while, and wait for the time to pass. Quite frankly, I'd rather be dead."

The kid who still hasn't introduced himself clams up, but holds his ground, and glares back at the ghost as though doing so would burn a hole right through him. "You are very disrespectful to a game much older than yourself. Just because you do not understand go and do not appreciate exactly what you inhabit does not make it any lesser, Shindou."

"What, no –san?" He speaks of the polite manner of addressing someone older, but the boy turns up his nose haughtily.

"The day I address you as –san will be the day that you best me in go," Kid huffs, before finally introducing himself. "My name is Touya Akira. I will teach you to make something of your ruffian self, even in the afterlife! You will learn to play go. Perhaps you may accompany me places other than the gōban, now that you've found someone willing to speak to you. Reform will come in the form of go! Once you learn how profound it is, you will be begging me to teach you more!"

Shindou laughed and laughed, tossing his head back and taking small breaks to wheeze and gather himself again. "Oh, you are adorable. How old are you, three?"

"I'm five!" Akira protests, just before his mother calls upstairs above the chatter in the dining room, asking him if everything is alright. He replies positively, making sure to keep the current anger out of his voice from her.

"Well, I obviously have nothing better to do than follow you around. Lead the way, pip-squeak."

"I'm going to be taller than you, one day," Akira answers, turning his nose up yet again. "My father often tells me that he did not finish growing until he was nearly thirty, and he is quite a tall man."

"Good luck," Shindou comments, reaching for a cigarette and lighting up, fully aware that this was one thing that did not seem to transcend time, and aware that although they kept replacing themselves in the same pocket where they'd been years ago, one day, relatively soon, he felt, they would run out.

x

ii. — Conflict.

The ghost certainly has made himself comfortable for the past two years. When Akira walks into his room, the deceased teenager is flopped out on the bed, snoring away, even though he'd only left him there for about twenty minutes. Sighing and walking to his desk, he decides that he might as well do his homework, while the temporary silence is available. At seven-years-old, he has quite a bit on his plate. He has very little in common with other children, and finds himself slowly but surely picking up habits from his invisible companion, worrying his family and gaining respect among his peers, but for all the wrong reasons. Every time he starts cursing in a fight, and argues a bully out of order, Hikaru laughs and laughs, slapping him on the back and making his infectious mood pass to his host. Still, he fumes and fusses, trying to force the teen with dyed blonde bangs to conform to society, despite being deceased. His efforts are pretty much futile, except with go. The faux-blonde-brunette yawns and makes forced gagging noises about it, but he also begins to comment on moves. One day, his comment is correct, and Akira, although he'd been loathe to admit it, had been forced to heed his advice. Still, he knows nothing about the game, so they play in the quiet hours of the evening, when he is not playing with his father.

Hikaru has a gift for it. Akira, although he is pleased to have a rival a little closer to his age (in reality, Hikaru does not age, but he had died at nineteen, and if he had been alive, would have just recently turned twenty-six, but his mentality is much closer to the seven year old boy that he haunts), is frustrated that he has caught up to him so quickly, despite taking it on so much later in his life and being far less passionate about the game than he is. They pull each other up and goad each other on, and, in reality, they are closer friends than anyone else Akira has known in his short life.

When Hikaru wakes up, Akira turns around at the noise. "Good evening, Shindou-san."

"Ugh, stop with that," Hikaru was the one who had told him to attach the suffix to his name, but shortly after he'd cynically begun to do just that, the young man had gotten disgusted with it. "Call me Shindou, or Hikaru, or something. You're always so stuffy."

"Well, you hardly call me by name, so I figure we're even," He smirks and puts his pencil down, finished with his literature homework. After sitting for a moment, he slowly turns around, and finds the ghost smoking a cigarette, as he was prone to do when he had nothing else going on. "Say, Shindou-sa—I mean, Shindou."

"What is it, brat?" A trail of smoke hovers around his face, where a cocky grin settles on his lips.

Akira twitches at the usual name-calling, but remains calm. Dealing with Shindou certainly has helped him to temper his patience, but not for very long. He still gets quite frustrated with the young man every day, but he gets better at lying and keeping it under control, even as the half-blonde egged him on. "I want to know more about you…like, how you died."

His green eyes grow distant, and he looks far off, as the smoke keeps swirling around his person. "It's not that interesting. I already told you the basis of it, anyways."

The boy scowls. "Yeah, but you didn't tell me anything leading up to it!" His invisible companion just keeps puffing on the stick of tobacco, and he grows exasperated. "Well, if you don't want to talk about that, why don't you tell me about your childhood. You have the fortunate position of being right in the middle of mine."

Hikaru coughs and chokes before chuckling. "Cheeky little asshole," He flicks the cigarette somewhere, and, just like always, it dissipates as soon as it leaves his hand. "Still not much to talk about. My 'rents were pretty normal—didn't really try to control me or anything, hence how I turned out. Used to play soccer here and there, but school was the worst. Stopped goin' after middle school. Had this one real sick friend for a while, and after he stopped being well enough to go out, I drifted. Got pulled into shit on the streets, and the rest, as they say, is history."

Akira's mouth was full of questions, but the first one that tumbled out was, "Why didn't you stay friends with him?"

Folding his arms behind his head, the brunette in ripped jeans, a stylish t-shirt, and a crisp fall jacket shrugged. "Dunno. Speaking of, he used to like that old man's game too. I think my grandpa liked it, as well. Small world, isn't it?"

"What was his name?!" Akira surely was passionate when it came to go, and any opportunity to play someone;especially someone Hikaru had an expressed interest in, made his heart thump more quickly.

"Sai, something or another," Hikaru replied softly, eyes resting at half-mast, gaze focused on the ceiling. "There, I've told you about it. Now, would you kindly shut up?"

"No! It's obviously important to you," The kid with a bob insisted, attempting to shake him awake. "Why would you just want to forget about it?!"

"Why are you being so annoying about this right now? It's none of your business," Shindou replies haughtily, and Akira's nostrils flare. Going to the ghost, he practically grabs him by the collar and breathes fire in his face.

"You certainly don't seem to be passing on any time soon, so your business has become my business!" The noise would have been startling to his parents, had not the both of them gone out for dinner somewhere, in the wake of his father's most recent success. He'd opted to stay home and watch the house, wanting to avoid the scene of the last dinner he'd attended and started shouting at Hikaru by accident. When Hikaru starts glaring down at him, a darker and far scarier disposition than the boy has ever seen the frivolous young man sport, he lets go and backs away slowly, trying to convince himself that he wasn't scared.

"You don't know anything about me and my business," Shindou says, with certain finality to his words. This ends the discussion, and he forcefully removes Akira's hands from his chest and stalks off of the bed and out of the room. "I'm going outside to smoke." He still can't go far, as he's attached to the boy, but it's a small physical distance, and a huge emotional one.

Akira wonders, if only for a moment, if he might throw up.

x

iii. — Answers.

In the quiet hours for the past three years, he's been doing some research. Finally, it seems he has everything he needs, and although the ghost behind him is generally boisterous, and has even managed to get him into a couple of unremarkable fights, today, he is silent. As though sensing that something is happening that he should be aware of, Shindou twitches and stays shadowed and almost gloomy, making his host invariably feel guilty and gloomy too, but he shakes his head of the feeling and concentrates on the task at hand.

When they arrive, the ghost looks furious and guilty and sad, mostly. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why not? I'm simply here to ask a few questions, and offer my condolences," Akira answers softly, trying to convince him before he rings the bell, the nameplate awfully familiar.

"I've been dead for years." Ten years, to be exact. He's been haunting Touya for five of them. Had he stayed alive, he ought to be twenty-nine. Almost thirty. A grown man, in all aspects. "You had no right—"

"You need closure," Akira says, sounding stern, and feeling violently ill for standing his ground. "You're obviously sticking around for some reason, and although you want me to think you're some horrible criminal, I know better. You need to see your family."

"You shouldn't stick your nose where it doesn't belong," Hikaru hisses, but the bell has already been pressed with the hand that is not holding a welcoming gift for the family that has no idea who this boy is. He sucks in air and frets. What if they've divorced over his death? Or moved? No, they couldn't have, the nameplate is still the same. Still the same house. He feels like he's come back home after crashing a party with his friends, and nothing at all has changed, and that, in another way, makes him sick. In turn, this makes his young host feel sick, and he mentally scolds him for shrinking away.

A woman, older than her years, emerges from the house, her hair tied up in a loose bun, gray strands prominent in her hair. Hikaru is silently gaping, and judging by the way he keeps struggling to find words (strange, for such a talkative individual), Akira knows that he has found the right person. "Hello, Shindou-san," He greets, sounding politely. "I apologize for arriving without notice, but I wanted to speak to you…about your son."

She looks taken aback, for good reason, but hurries to excuse the mess of their house, and lets him in with little questioning. To hear someone speak of the deceased so freshly must've felt like the reopening of a wound still healing. He comes in, offers her his gift, and watches as Hikaru looks around for all things that have and have not changed, still silent. While making tea, she asks how he knew him, and, having prepared for this question, Touya answers that an older sibling of his (a lie, he was an only child) had told him very much about her son (of course this was false, because the young man was personally haunting him), and after hearing so much about him, he'd been looking into finding out the real reason why he'd been a delinquent (Hikaru, of course, bragged about some of his fantastic fights, and always insisted that he'd been one since he'd turned thirteen), and how he'd died (this was probably the only thing that was completely true).

"So, there are people that still remember Hikaru," She sounds disappointed and pleased at the same time, but her smile is as fond as a grieving mother's could be. Hikaru himself studies her, and feels a bit like crying, but cannot find the tears. "That boy…bothering people even after he's passed. Still, he was mine. I loved him. I still…" She chokes a bit, but is still smiling, eyes glistening. "I miss him. He was so full of life. Even if all we did was bicker, I miss everything about him." While his mother buried her face for a moment, Touya sent his ethereal companion a nasty look, and Shindou looked sheepish, but not exactly apologetic. It was true, after all. "Oh dear, I'm terribly sorry. Touya-kun, was it?" He nodded, and she continued. "Why don't you have a look around? I'd love to tell you more about him, but I'll need to compose myself first. His room is the first on the left, up the stairs."

Akira followed her directions, and nodded his head politely. "Your mom…she's very kind."

"She's a nag," Hikaru replied, but didn't have much heart in the retort. "I can't believe she kept all this stuff." In his room, his once scattered magazines were lined up nicely on the shelf; posters from movies and large prints of idols he liked adorned the walls. His clothes were all folded or hung, and other than the distant, unlived in feel and smell of the room, it seemed very much the same as it had been the day he'd left and gotten killed. Once he noticed that Akira had come to a halt, he sighed. "Stop staring and ask."

"You played," There's a freshly polished gōban in the corner of the room, half hidden, the wooden kitani bowls for the stones are gleaming as well, signs of his mother's hard work. "Before you met me, you played."

"Barely," He snorted, but his eyes were far away, to some place Akira could not seem to reach, no matter how hard he pressed. "Sai…he taught me a little." It explained very much—after all, for a beginner, he seemed familiar with the game. Often, he'd said it was because his sick friend and grandfather liked it, but it was obvious by the evidence of the board that he'd liked the game more than a little bit. "The board was a gift."

Steely gray-blue eyes studied the ghost and he had a soft, instigated sort of reply. "Go players are not careless, and they are not created by accident." It comes out in a whisper so soft that Hikaru almost does not hear all of the words, but he merely huffs and refuses to continue this conversation. After he keeps scanning the room, the ten year-old pads down the stairs, and finds Mrs. Shindou in the living room, rather than the kitchen. She has tea for the both of them, and an old album in her hands.

"Sorry again," He denies her apology, and she continues, eyes still red and glistening. "You know, he was always a smart boy. Really, if he'd applied himself, he might've proven to be a genius in something, but nothing ever held his passion and attention for long." This didn't surprise the boy, who had lived with him for five years. Although Shindou's attitude constantly irritated him, there was no denying that he had a great mind. "When he was thirteen…maybe fourteen or so…then, he just suddenly started drifting. But it didn't seem like he did it for no reason. He kept getting involved in all these things, and nothing my husband or I said seemed to stop him from doing it anyways. He fell out of love with that game, with his friends, with school, with soccer—and he kept making money, dirtying his hands. We told him we could help, but he always was a stubborn sort. For some reason, he seemed determined to fix everything by himself."

"Fix what?" Hikaru looked dark, like he had that one night three years ago, his mother looked distressed, and Akira was on tenterhooks, waiting to hear the rest of the story his ghost would never tell him.

"Ah, I'm sorry—I'd assumed that your brother would have told you. He had a very sick friend, plagued by cancer, named Sai." That name again, almost made Hikaru and Akira's hearts clench at the same time, and the older of the two males balled his fists and closed his eyes. "Hikaru…he…the money he made, by whatever means, it saved his poor friend, but it all got him killed. I hear Sai recently had to get his arm amputated, but continues to play go…still, he's never forgotten my son. He writes to me and calls frequently, to see if we're still doing well."

Akira, despite knowing that Hikaru's mother was watching, let his jaw drop and gaped at the ghost, who was scowling. Mentally, he almost screamed. And you never told me this?

"It wasn't important," Hikaru hissed quickly, crossing his arms and sulking. "Just because I had a reason doesn't make what I did right."

"Ah, but, he still was a troublemaker. Sai often said that he told Hikaru not to do the things he did for his sake, but was grateful, regardless. He admitted, openly, that Hikaru had become something of a criminal. Still, none of us wanted him to die."

"See," Hikaru snorted, as if to say I told you so.

"My big brother…he'd agree," He looks to the younger Shindou while saying the words, "I think he'd probably say he was a pigheaded person, but not altogether bad. Perhaps a bit self-destructive."

"I resent that," Hikaru replies snidely. His mother seems to nod in agreement, though.

"I think you're wrong about one thing, Shindou-san. I believe your son had a passion. For someone so reputedly boisterous, he seemed very private."

"That's right," The missus agreed again, sniffling a bit. "He never did tell his father or I about anything going on in his life. Or his friends. Only Sai seemed to know anything about him, and he never talked. I wish I could've stopped him."

At the same time, Hikaru clicked his tongue and said, "It wasn't your fault, mom."

"It wasn't your fault, ma'am," Touya said the same to her aloud, so she could hear, and she fell shortly into sobs. "I'm sorry to bring up such sad things, so late after his passing. My brother's words…they seemed so sad and lost, and I thought, perhaps, if I met you and found the truth, his heart would be lighter. But it seems I've caused you quite the trouble."

"And that's why you should mind your own business, brat," Hikaru reprimands him harshly, but his mother sniffles and hurries to clean herself up, smile, and see her guest to the gate.

"No, you were no trouble at all. Really! I mean, of course thinking about him is very difficult, but speaking about him, good or bad…it means I haven't forgotten him. It's nice to know others care about my fool of boy so much later. Really, he's the kind that'd never rest, even after death. I'm sure he's haunting some poor soul as we speak," She says, with a moment of such keen insight that both Akira and Hikaru straighten their backs, afraid that she'd caught on, but she's simply making a point. "Thank you for coming, Touya-kun. You're always welcome. My husband would love to meet you as well."

"Thank you," Touya bows and the door closes after she waves. The boys heave sighs at the same time.

"If I wasn't dead, I'd choke the life out of you," Hikaru makes an empty threat, and Akira starts walking back to the station.

"You don't want to meet him?" Akira asks, staring hard into those green eyes, feeling sad and apprehensive and proud of his efforts today.

After a moment, the deceased teen pulls out a cigarette and starts puffing. "If I say no, are you gonna go anyways?"

"Probably," Akira answers truthfully, unabashedly. "I think you need to."

Smoke swirls around his blonde bangs, and Hikaru sighs again, more smoke trickling from his nostrils. "Let's get this over with, then."

x

iv. — Reconciliation

Hikaru told Akira how to get there, told him how far away it was, how annoying the ride would be, and tried all kinds of things to make him change his mind, to no avail. After they'd begun the journey, the young man settled with teasing about the visit, and got him suitably riled up. "So, brother, huh?" Hikaru goads the kid, elbowing him invisibly on the train. "You gonna start calling me big bro? Or maybe you'll be all formal? Gross."

Akira blushes hotly. "Shut up! Did you think the truth would have really been believable?"

"Of course not," Those emotive green eyes rolled and he leaned back in his seat, adjusting his jacket. "But brother? You don't speak or look like you've had a big brother in your entire life, unless your big bro was just as dumb and go-obsessed as you."

His nostrils flared, and the boy had to force himself not to stand, ball his fists, and yell at something none of the other train patrons could see. "What's wrong with the way I look?!"

"First things first, it's pretty obvious your parents have the fashion sense of my great-grandparents. Those patterns and colors are hideous. If you'd actually go shopping with them and let me pick some stuff out, those bullies wouldn't have as many reasons to pick on you for being a dweeb."

Akira continues blushing hotly, attracting the attention of a concerned old woman, and he hurries to toss up his hands, apologize, and say that he's simply overwhelmed by the heat of July. Just as he's about to argue that there's nothing wrong with those clothes, and then go on to defend his speech, the blonde-brunette holds up a hand to silence him, and stands, unseen by others, from his seat.

"This is the stop," The train pulls to a slow stop, and they get off. "The bus is up those stairs, and then to your left. Route number thirty-seven." Just as he says, the bus is waiting there, if only for another minute or two, so they hurry on and it departs. When they've settled again, they continue arguing about when to use polite speech and when to forgo it, but Akira also relents by saying that Hikaru's teaching him to fight in real life and on the go-board have kept that from happening, which diverts his attention enough to brag for a little bit.

Still, the ride is as boring and tedious as he'd promised, so they played a game of blind go, complete with snide commentary and attacks aimed at their opponent's playing style. Ages later, they arrive, and the sun is setting, so Akira stops by a payphone and informs his mother that he'll be away for the evening, and she seems pleased that he is making friends, and approves easily. Their journey continues when they walk up a hill for half a mile or so, and Hikaru mocks his host for his continued failure in athletics. He isn't as hopeless as he had been five years ago, when they first met, but he's still under par to his classmates.

When Hikaru comes to a stop, halting suddenly outside of the small, old fashioned, eastern-style home, Akira also tries to still his breath and read the plate. Fujiwara, it reads. Quieting as though he'd been still and silent just a moment before, Hikaru says nothing, but that says more than if he'd spoken, yet again.

Akira rings, feeling more nervous than his last visit. He didn't even have a gift. The voice on the other end seems very old—probably not Hikaru's old friend. "Ah, my apologies. My brother was a friend of Shindou-san's, and I was wondering, if I could meet with Sai-san."

"Ah, Shindou-kun," The voice says, and Hikaru looks like just hearing this person's voice is affecting him, already."Yes, please come in."

Akira plods behind the helpful old man, who leads he and his ghostly companion into the room, where a boy more ethereal than the spirit haunting him rests in front of a gōban. His eyes are half-lidded and glossy, and it occurs to the boy that perhaps this young man is blind. Looking up at his visitor, he smiles. "Ah, you've returned."

"I had a feeling you'd be able to recognize me," Hikaru speaks, just as casually as he'd been speaking to him on the way. Akira looks shocked. "You're awfully calm for a guy in a room with a kid and a ghost."

"Mm, I've learned to become quite adaptable," Sai—it must be, Akira figures—with his long, beautiful hair, girlish lips, but strong chin, smiles knowingly, as if he's always known this would happen. "You took quite a long while to come and play a game."

"You know I can't hold the stones any more," As if by nervous habit, Hikaru pulls those never-ending cigarettes out and lights up. "How's your left hand treating you?" Akira noticed upon entrance, but really noticed now that his companion called attention to it. His right hand sleeve was loose and empty, without anything there. He had his left hand in the bowl full of ebony stones.

"I've become more than used to it. It has been two years, after all," Sai giggled under his breath. "Oh, do excuse me. Hikaru's so rude, not introducing me. My name is Fujiwara Sai."

"O-oh! I'm, er, Touya Akira!" He bows back to him in reciprocation. "I didn't think you'd be blind."

"Mm, not quite. My sight's always been poor, but I'm not blind just yet." Sai sounds oddly optimistic about this. "Still, I could play go even if my world was black. It's mysterious, how humans are so adaptable. I wish you were still alive, to adapt with me." Sai muses, as though speaking to himself.

"Yeah, well, tough luck," Hikaru mutters back. "You're alive, and that's what matters."

Finally, after being stuck in the middle of their weird reunion, Akira interjected. "I play too! I've been teaching Shindou. He's very good."

Sai giggles again. "I know. Despite all his griping, Hikaru played with me very often, before I got sick. I'm pleased to hear that he's taken it up once again." After a moment, he brightens even more. "Oh, I'll have grandfather make tea. Then we can play."

Akira turns to Hikaru, as though desperate. Hikaru shrugs and suddenly smiles like a cat. "Ah, Sai? Take it easy on the kid, would you?" The boy's eyes bug out and he scowls furiously.

"He may be an adult, but you'd be hard pressed to find many amateurs better than me!" Touya replies, very confident in his ability, and with good reason. He could very well go pro in the next year or two.

Sai and Hikaru share glances and smile.

One hour and two cups of tea later, Akira bows his head and clinches his fists in frustration. "I've lost," He mutters, disappointed with himself. "You are, by no means, an amateur. Why do you not compete?"

"Mm, there are lots of reasons, but the main one is that I find it difficult to move very far. I play internet go frequently, and my grandfather, as well as many locals, visit me to play." Sai smiles. "You know, if you'd like to improve at this level, I'm sure Hikaru would be happy to play you."

Akira tosses a furious glance his way. "You could play this well, and you never told me?!"

Hikaru shrugs. "You never asked. Besides, I've never won against this guy, either. I was more than rusty when we met again, too. So why don't we just call it even and forget about that?"

The boy immediately starts an argument with the teen, and they spit and fight and yell until Sai laughs and calms them down. "You've found a good friend."

"Shut up," Hikaru mutters, blushing hotly. "He's only half my age, and I'm dead."

"That doesn't mean you're not friends," Sai says back. "I'd even go forth and wager that you're rivals."

"He's not my rival," Hikaru and Akira say this in unison, before snorting at each other, crossing arms, and turning from each other. All three of them laugh, and finally, after silence settles, he sighs. "Well, I mean, this was what I wanted. I wanted to make sure my death really mattered. That you were okay. I saw mom, and I mean, she's not exactly on cloud nine, but it seems like her and dad are okay. You're okay. So why am I still here?"

"Let's play a game and find out." Sai says, as though that's been the answer all along.

Hikaru scowls, and his green eyes grow dark. "I already said I can't—"

"Just point, like you always do," Akira insists. "I want to see you play your best, since, apparently, you've been going easy on me."

"You're going to keep bringing that up, aren't you," It's not a question, and Akira's scowl is set on his lips. "Alright, alright. One game. Then we're crashing. We've gotta leave early tomorrow morning, to get this brat back."

The game, after they say the formalities (Akira and Sai, that is; Hikaru never has and never will do that stuffy old thing), is riveting. Hikaru, as Sai had said, was holding back in all their games, and played moves he did not understand at first, and was later astounded to see come around full circle to threaten Sai's territories. Their patterns were gorgeous flows, and Akira wished the game would last forever, on and on into oblivion, but as yosecame to a close before his very eyes, he sighed in happiness and disappointment at Hikaru's two-moku loss.

"See," Sai said, smiling brightly again. "Hikaru is very good."

"You've had your game, then," Hikaru dismisses his childhood friend with a petulant scowl. "We're going to bed."

"I know you won't say goodbye tomorrow. Play lots with Touya-kun in my stead, okay?" Hikaru is silent for a moment, but turns around so only Akira can see, and nods. When the boy opens his mouth to tell the other go player of the gesture, he sees tears falling down Sai's face and he can't keep from smiling in happiness.

When they are in their shared room, Sai's grandfather pops in and tells the boy goodnight before going to the room he and Sai share in this small place. Akira, although he knows he shouldn't press, after all of this, after this whole crazy day, asks what he wants to anyways, with Shindou puffing away next to him. "Why did you run away from him, even though you were sending him money, paying for things? Why did you run away from go?"

Hikaru, with those lazy tendrils of smoke floating around him, smiled, a sadder smile than Akira had ever seen him wear. "He wouldn't have been safe, with me. I mean, him, the game, they made me happy. And that was reason enough for my enemies to want to take them away."

After that, Akira's heart feels sick and his mind feels full of mixed emotions, both his and Hikaru's giving him a headache. He decides not to make any more sudden adventures, and does not ask any more questions that evening.

x

v. — Growth.

Akira is sixteen. He is almost taller than Hikaru, a fact that he goads about to his longest companion. They play fierce go that claws at the other every day now. Not for the first time in these long eleven years does he wish that his rival could hold his own stones, but he is just pleased that he's still around. For the past few years, he takes time out of his busy go-schedule to visit the Shindou's household, and to visit Sai. It seems to be less tiring for Hikaru and more entertaining, once he gets past the initial shock and pain. For his parents, as he'd been an only child like Akira, having the boy around was a little bit like filling the huge hole their vibrant son had left. They often commented that a good boy like him was great. Hikaru griped about it, but his young friend and rival replied that they were only saying such things because they missed him, personality, delinquency, and all.

He has picked up moves from the ghost, and the go world has noticed. Many people ask where the influence came from, since his father shows no such tendencies in his game, and no one, outside of the circle he studies with, would have close enough proximity to the Meijin's son to have such an impact. It certainly isn't Ogata, or Ashiwara, so they speculate that there's someone else, but no one is more pressing of the issue than his own family.

"Introduce me," His father had said quietly and calmly as always, to his son at the dinner table. Hikaru, even after all these years, seemed to find it fun to make fun of how serious he was, even if he did respect him a little bit. "If you are playing so much go with anyone else, it is something worthy of note, and they must be quite good to have held your attention and to have affected your game."

As if a broken fountain waiting to burst, Akira suddenly asked, "Father, do you believe in ghosts?" His father seemed startled and even a little put-off, but did not ignore his son. Akira was not one for jokes. "If I were to say that, perhaps, this ghost was a bit brash, and more than a little rude, but had quite the mind for go, and a whole host of other problems that he died with, and he's been haunting me for years and years, would you believe me?"

"Hey, hey, easy on the old man!" Hikaru winces. "You're tossing out a lot of crazy what-ifs, kid."

"He calls me kid. He's been with me since I was five, but only playing seriously since I was ten. His name is Shindou Hikaru, and I can't really figure out why he can't pass on, but I'm not sure if I want him to right now. His game, it improves my game, and he's, well, he's someone I consider a rival!"

"Aww, didn't know you cared so much, sweetie," Hikaru teases, and Akira refuses to rise to the bait. "What do you think dear old dad is gonna say to that, anyways? Oh, that's great; let's take you right to the psychiatrist, little buddy. Imaginary friends are so ten years ago. Oh, wait." He snickers a bit at his own joke.

"Shindou, be quiet," Akira hisses under his breath, and tries to keep his gaze level with his father's keen eye. "I realize I'm speaking out of turn…I'm sorry. If you don't believe me, that's fine. Just…forget everything I've said."

"I never said such a thing," Touya Kouyo replies, sounding stern but looking intrigued. "He's here, this Shindou boy?"

"Hey!" Shindou brightens, turning around to him. "Looks like your dad's crazy too. What a coincidence."

Akira sighs, tired. "Yes, he's here. He was nineteen when he passed, so he should be thirty-five this year, but it seems like I'm the only one of us who's aging."

"I'm not the one sitting at the dinner table, talking about the ghost no one else can see, and trying to force my dad to play a game with him," Shindou has a good point, but he's trying to tune him out to finish the conversation with his father properly.

Kouyo's brow is furrowed for a moment before he speaks again. "Bring him to the living room. I assume you'll be placing the stones for him?"

"Yes'sir," Akira replies, sounding pleased with himself. The three of them plod to the living room, and Hikaru is a bit nervous, having played only two people in his strange sort of half-life. They bow to each other and speak the ritual phrase before beginning, and Hikaru plays through the game calmly, aggressively, and as strangely as always, forcing his father to admit that there is probably another person moving these stones, using his son. Akira would never set such traps, nor read in this way, but it's as refreshing as it is fun to him, to discover new methods and players in this craft. When they finish, the Meijin wins by only two and a half moku, and wipes his brow with a small smile.

"Thank you for the game," The holder of five titles, at the moment, bows his head to his son, who bows back.

Shindou guffaws and Akira's eyebrow twitches. "Oh man, your dad is a hoot! Tell him if we play again and get that close to get you a porn mag."

Akira's face turns beet red, and his father questions him. "What's the matter?"

"Shindou's just said something rude, is all. I think he enjoyed the game as well, father. Thank you."

The elder Touya stands precariously and smiles. "You know, son, I've been thinking of retiring. That game…somehow, it showed me that there was so much more to this game. I want to travel…play more people, just like this, around the world. Just like you, I want the go of those fighting for the top to influence my game." Akira looks shocked, and Hikaru is just as floored. He keeps trying to make up excuses and flails to tell him that he shouldn't do that over just one game, he isn't that special, but it's to no avail, of course, because Akira's too shocked to say any of this to his father, and Hikaru cannot be seen by anyone else but his host, or at least sensed and felt by Sai.

"That's it—that's it!" Shindou exclaims, making Akira's ears ring. "Sai—tell him about Sai! If nothing else will keep him in Japan, maybe that'll keep him busy. They'll love each other, stupid old go snobs—"

"Sai-san isn't very old, and if you're going by that reasoning, we're snobs too, but as much as I hate to admit it, you're right. Father!" He calls him back, and gives him the address of Fujiwara Sai, tells his father that before making any sort of rash decision, he should play the man there, midway into his thirties, like Hikaru should be. His father nods and agrees to do just that, packing his backs and calling his mother to go with him on the trip.

"Say, Touya," Shindou speaks, finally flopping on the floor and letting all the information process. "Does this whole search for go perfection thing run in the family?"

His companion thinks only for a moment before replying with a complicated sigh. "Yes."

x

vi. — Departure.

On the day of what should have been Shindou's forty-first birthday, and is actually the twenty-first fall of Touya's life, they are sitting at the blonde-brunette's grave. The young man with the bob is taller than his companion, at last. They tease each other about it, and share a drink, sort of, after cleaning his grave. Shindou's family and Sai have left already, and the two of them are by themselves, for a time, until some weirdo comes up. Shindou calls attention to him, and his host looks to him.

"Touya Akira?" The man is a stranger to both of them, so they play it safe.

"Yes," He replies truthfully. It isn't altogether strange for people to greet him, he's a young pro with two titles under his belt now, but to meet at the graveyard of a man more than fifteen years cold is strange.

"Ah, hello, I'm Waya. I don't think we've ever met." In the distance, there's a man waiting in a car, so Akira assumes that they know each other. "Sorry, that's Isumi-san. He has to stay and watch his car."

Suddenly, Hikaru's memory is jarred and he yells, startling Touya. "Ah! Oh man, Waya and Isumi. I didn't recognize these two. They look so different. I guess it has been more than fifteen years now."

Waya continues talking, a smile soft and forlorn on his face. "You know, I knew Shindou for…business reasons. He died saving me, you know. It was a big job, and it was my fault it all went south, but he saved me anyways. But, you know, he never gave up trying to convince me to do something else with my life. Once—just once—he showed me how to play go. Said I really had a talent for it, although he wiped the floor with me. So I quit the life. Got the ever-loving daylights beat out of me, and got out, together with Isumi-san. We made it out pretty well, all things considered. Learned more about the game. It's not exactly like we have clean records, and we've done our time, but now, we're starting off again, as pros. We just came to thank him. Ah, sorry. I know you probably didn't know him well. But you were just there, and I'd planned to tell him these things here, anyways."

"I'm sure he can hear you, somewhere," Akira answers softly. "And go—his go, that it lives on in you, I'm sure it means more than anything else to him."

Waya, he can tell, is trying not to cry. "Sorry. Condolences. Maybe I'll see you at the Institute some day soon!"

"Yes," Touya says, and turns to smile at Shindou, and finds him many shades paler than he should be. His heart and breath catch in his throat. "Oh no."

"Touya," Shindou sounds both panicked and serene. "I think I'm going."

The young man next to his ghost stands, a mess, desperate, eyes glossy with almost-tears. "You can't just leave like that! We didn't finish our game last night. You didn't see my father and Sai beat their tie! I haven't become Honninbo twice! Shindou!"

"Oh, shut up, you big brat." He smiles a little bit, reaching out to him. "Look, you're a big kid now. Your go's fantastic, and you were always annoyed with me. You should be happy I'm finally going to rest. Or what, gonna miss your big bro that much once he's gone?"

"I just…I can't believe you'd give up go, just like that, again, passing on once you find out those people were safe. I can't believe it! But, it's…it's just like you, you big softie in disguise." He tries to force a laugh, and doing that makes the tears finally start.

"I never stopped missing go, you know. Playing seriously with you, all these years…it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Since I was dead, I didn't have to worry about someone coming to find me any more. Or my mom being worried sick about me, and my dad worried about my future. Sai was healthy again. Every game, you got better and better and better, and I…I'm not supposed to be here anymore."

"But you were my rival! I don't know if I'll ever find anyone else like you again."

"What about Ochi? Or Ogata? Even old man Kuwabara's sitting and waiting for you. You've gotta go out and show 'em how hard you've been working, 'til you're on top of the world. You won the tournament together with your team in the international under-eighteen championship. You've won the Honninbo title once, at age eighteen. You've got absolutely nothing in your life or your go to be ashamed of."

As Hikaru continues drifting away slowly, they're chatting, like nothing expedient is happening, encouraging each other that they'll be okay with his passing. Akira chokes back a hollow sob. "I might've loved you. A little. Even though you're the most infuriating person I know."

"I know." Hikaru replies in kind, hugging him like he never had, and Akira figures he smells just like he's always thought, of cigarettes and trees and free-spirited creatures. "I haven't exactly lived with you for fifteen years for nothing. Go get a nice girlfriend. Or boyfriend. I don't really care, but go get laid."

"Shindou!" He blushes hotly, but hugs him even tighter. "I really will miss you."

"Thanks, Akira," Hikaru winks and then he's gone, like he's never been there, and Touya collapses, right in front of his grave.

Once he's pulled himself together, he figures that the only appropriate thing to do is to play more go. He pulls out all those old kifus of his and Hikaru's games, and tries to keep the sobs from coming, but it is difficult. The gōban has no stain to it any more, the one he'd received for his fifth birthday, and finality of it marks Touya deeply. As though Shindou's never left, he turns to speak to air, and places one black stone on the board, his own move, and then places one white, for his invisible opponent.