Epilogue

"Granddad, this is Tezuka," Sanada said to his grandfather, gesturing toward the stoic man beside him. His grandfather nodded briefly in reply, before Sanada continued. "He knows how to play Go."

"Ah," his grandfather said. "I have a board just over there, if you want a game?"

Tezuka nodded, and went to get it, beginning to set it up, as Sanada watched - an amused smile on his face.

"So, what do you do?" Sanada's grandfather asked him.

"I'm an accountant."

Sanada's grandfather looked up to him. "It doesn't suit you. You should change professions."

"That's what we tell him," Sanada agreed.

"It brings in the money," Tezuka said.

"Don't tell Atobe that," Sanada told him. "Last time I said that to him he tried to buy me a house in Vienna."

Tezuka half-smiled, and began his game.

Echizen continued hitting the ball against the wall, watching it come back and then hitting it again. It seemed, though, that every time he moved he was blinded by a bright flash. Turning to glare at Fuji - standing at the side talking photographs - he said, "Do you have to do that now?"

"But you look so lovely when you play," Fuji said, smiling brightly at him. "It's like poetry in motion."

Echizen glared at him. "Fuji, go away."

Fuji produced a flask from his bag, and held it out toward him. "Coffee?"

Atobe looked through the CVs on his desk, glancing briefly at each before moving onto the next. From his desk, a sleepy Jiroh looked up.

"Why do we need another assistant again?"

"Because you sleep all the time, and Sanada only got this job to pay for his grandfather's surgery, and now that that's over, he's going back to teach Kendo."

Jiroh nodded, dozily. "Where's he living again?"

"He is living in one of my houses," Atobe answered, flicking through yet another CV.

"Along with Tezuka, Fuji, and Echizen?"

"Yes, along with them," Atobe answered, irritably. The door opened, and Sanada walked in, Starbucks cup in hand.

"Latte?"

"Yes, yes, thank you."

Sanada turned to leave, when Atobe said, "You know, you don't have to do that anymore."

Sanada shrugged and walked out, as Atobe smirked at his retreating back.

Tezuka glanced up from his work as Echizen walked in, a plastic cup in his hand. He placed it down on Tezuka's desk. After a moment's silence, he muttered, "Fuji's busy today, so…"

Tezuka smiled. "Thanks."

Echizen nodded stiffly, and walked out.

Atobe was sitting in his library, focused on the novel he was currently reading, when a flash obscured his vision. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes. "Fuji."

"I just needed another one for my collection," Fuji replied, with a smile.

Atobe growled, and mumbled something that sounded like, "I wasn't even dressed for it…"

He returned to his book, when a whiff of smoke made him look back up, to see Fuji taking a drag from his cigarette.

"I told you not to smoke in here, or at all."

Fuji smiled at him, and stubbed it out in a nearby ash tray. He went and sat down next to Atobe, nestling his head against him. "I know. That was my last one."

Atobe, Sanada, Fuji and Tezuka stood with the rest of the spectators as Echizen's match continued. He'd reached the semi-finals, and looked as though he was going to storm through this round too.

Fuji took another picture, and looked back as Atobe spoke.

"Alright, I get why Fuji's here," he said. "He's taking pictures of Ryoma. And I'm here because I'm sponsoring him, Tezuka's here because he's interested in tennis, but why are you here, Sanada? You're not my assistant anymore."

Sanada looked toward Echizen, before turning back toward them. "Because of us."

Tezuka smiled at the words, and Atobe shifted, and there was a flash of a camera as Echizen hit a blinding winner past his opponent.

"I guess that's a good enough reason."