Title: Light and Shadow, Snow and Night, Go-stones on a Go-ban.

Author: Katharos

Rating: G

Fandom: Hikaru no Go

Notes: Written for Fic on Demand over on livejournal. Answering request for a Chinese Poem made byxellospoo

The translation of the poem is by John Fairban, and some additional information about its context was taken from this site www . msoworld . com / mindzine / news / orient / go / special/cpoem2.html

For some reason, which Akira couldn't have explained logically if you asked him, Shindou Hikaru was currently sprawled on his stomach all over his living room. The other pro had been going through the kifu of recent tournament games, but now Hikaru was getting bored. And a bored Hikaru was an annoying Hikaru.

"Akira," he whined. "What're you reading?"

Akira didn't look up from his book. "An ancient Chinese poem called 'a poem after repeated farewells."

"Boring," Hikaru sing-songed.

"It's about Go."

"Really?" Hikaru perked up, sitting up straight and peering up at Akira interestedly. "What's it about?"

Akira couldn't help the slight play of amusement over his lips as he answered. "The poet, Du Mu, is saying goodbye to his friend Wang Feng, who was the go champion of the era."

"Really?" Hikaru grinned. "Wonder what it'd be like to play him."

"Shindou," Akira said warningly, although now Shindou had mentioned it he couldn't help but wonder…

Hikaru snickered as if he knew what Akira was thinking. "Read it to me? Properly," he specified sternly.

Akira's lip twitched just slightly as he bent his head back to the page. "You really should learn Chinese, Shindou."

"Why? I have you to translate for me, don't I?"

Akira forced himself not to rise to that; Shindou was such an uncultured brat that Akira felt it was his duty to encourage whatever brief flickers of interest he might express. "Just listen, Shindou," he sighed.

Hikaru made a quick button-up motion over his grin, which Akira chose to ignore. "Listen," he repeated.

"There are few in the world with consummate skill like you;

There are none among us with too little to do like me.

After we part, at the bamboo window on nights of wind and snow,

In the light and shadow of a solitary lantern I shall play over the Games of Wu."

Akira fell silent slowly, allowing the feel of the poem to linger with him, savouring it. The smell of snow from outside the bamboo window, and the sharply barred bands of light and shadow that fell to lie across the white and black stones of the goban.

"He didn't…" The soft words startled him out of his thoughts.

He glanced up, frowning, his eyes already narrowed in annoyance. "Shindou," he began, but then stopped, uneasy. Hikaru hardly seemed to be seeing him.

The look in Hikaru's eyes was old, and distant. As if he were gazing into something no one else could see.

"He didn't play over the games of Wu," Hikaru sighed. "Not after his friend had just left him. He re-played the games that he had played with him, to remember him. To pretend he was still with him."

Akira's hands were tense around his book. "Maybe," he forced out. "But he didn't have anything else to do, did he? We have too much."

Hikaru looked thoughtful, almost wistful. "That's true…" Suddenly he shook himself and grinned. "Hah! I've got to crush you at the game tomorrow for one thing."

Akira felt his hands relax their grip on the book. "You won't even come close, Shindou."

"You!" Hikaru spluttered. "This game's gonna end before it enters mid-game!"

Akira's eyes narrowed. "If you're going to keep playing that utterly stupid move you've picked up somehow I'm sure it will!"

And in the course of the argument that followed, that eventually brought the neighbours around to complain, much to Akira's mortification and Hikaru's indifference, the book was almost forgotten, save for the gentle shadow cast across the brightness of their lives.