a/n: A little serious again, but this is one of the more cliché stories out there, so I had to include a version of it.

Part 5: We'll Play Again

The house seemed extraordinarily empty today. His mother had finally finished packing the last of her personal belongings and left to live with her sister. The architecture which had always seemed pleasantly austere now looked cold and soulless. It was almost as if the very shoji sensed the finality of their owner's last departure.

Now what? In the kitchen, his mother had left a kettle and his father's favorite tea bowls. It was the set she'd often used to serve guests at his father's evening study sessions. Perhaps she couldn't bring herself to consider using them alone. He didn't know. Absently, Touya Akira selected his father's bowl from the set and holding it, went to stand in the main room overlooking the gardens and the snow.

Standing there, looking out, he felt as though the house were closing in, threatening to smother him in an atmosphere of isolation. He opened the window to let in the breeze and felt instantly better. The air grew cold. The sky grew dark. He sipped tea from the empty cup, and listened to the stillness of the evening. The occasional punctuation of the bamboo deer scare echoed louder as twilight gave way to night, and he felt as though his world had dissolved into the wind and the sound, and the empty cup. White snow and black sky became stones on the board of a game thirty-two years long. Father...

The doorbell rang. Its incongruous chime pierced the growing sadness and Touya was abruptly aware of how dark it had become and how cold the room was. Setting the cup on the kitchen counter as he passed, the man made his way to the door. It was Shindou.

"Jeez, Touya! It's almost as cold in here as it is out there. Did they shut off the heat?" The atmosphere of tranquil melancholy was effectively shattered, and Touya sighed, following Shindou through the house back to the main room. He flicked on the overhead light switch and winced slightly at the sudden brilliance.

"Come in, make yourself at home." Even grief couldn't entirely cover the irony in his tone. Shindou looked at him in confusion, before returning to his inspection of the room. Touya watched him for a moment, finally asking, "Are you looking for something?"

"Where's his goban?" That Shindou had all the tact of a bull in a china shop was not unexpected, but somehow Touya found himself hard-pressed to remind himself of his rival's nature and not take offense.

"You want to play a game?"

"Not really, but you do." Shindou had found the open window and was shutting it as Touya retrieved the goban from the closet where it had been placed. He had to admit a game sounded like a wonderful idea. The polished kaiou felt comfortingly familiar. He remembered the thousands of times he'd pulled this goban from the closet in preparation for games with his father, and felt fresh tears glaze his eyes. Kneeling to position the board, he paused a moment to let his bangs hide the signs of his sadness. Shindou had followed him to the open closet and arrived at the space beside the window a moment later, bearing the two coffers of stones. Touya took one and opened it, preparing to nigiri, but Shindou stood and disappeared down the hall, returning almost immediately with a pair of glasses. He pulled off his jacket, revealing a large bottle of sake and set it beside the glasses.

"You don't think grief is enough of a handicap?" Touya asked, sitting back on his heels and staring blankly across the board. Shindou shook his head, and poured two glasses.

"It's an Irish tradition. Kinume read about it in some magazine." Shindou reached into the coffer of black stones and set one on the board, reminding Touya of the game.

"The Irish play drunken Go?" His tone was filled with his incredulity at the thought, but his numb fingers worked without him, shuffling a handful of white stones onto the board. He stared at them blankly for longer than he should have. Shindou noticed, and leaned forward, beginning to count the stones himself as he replied.

"No, they get drunk and celebrate to honor their dead. It seems like a good plan to me," he shot a perceptive glance at his rival and friend. "I either get you drunk enough to have a good cry and pass out or wait until you starve and neglect yourself into the hospital, right? I just thought it would be better to get it over with quickly." He lifted his glass. "To Touya Kouyo: the scariest guy I ever played." Touya couldn't help but smile and raised his glass as well. Then they began to play.

---

It was after midnight when Touya came to the realization that he was no longer playing. They'd managed two games that he could remember, and Shindou had shared a wealth of his memories of his rival's father. Aided by his friend and the rice wine, Touya had found himself remembering aloud his favorite childhood recollections. He'd talked of the first time he'd played his father in a true, albeit handicapped, game. He'd shared anecdotes from his father's study sessions and matches. He'd delved deep into the past, until the heartbreak of the past week was suffused with a warmth of gratitude for the life that had so touched his. Oddly enough, Shindou had proved a surprisingly good listener.

Touya stared at the board. He was relatively sure he hadn't played any stones in a while. His suspicions were confirmed when he noticed that Shindou had both coffers and was replaying a game, rather than even attempting another round. There was something familiar about the pattern, but his clouded mind couldn't quite place it. Gradually, he became aware of Shindou talking.

"--and when he went here, I thought for sure it was over, but then Sai took this corner and--"

"This is father's game against Sai?" Touya was proud to note the lack of slurring in his words. Shindou nodded. That's where he'd seen it before. He nodded dully to himself as Shindou continued setting the stones of play. His rival's hands were far from steady, but he never missed a mark. At last, the bleach-banged man smiled, placing a final stone. They both stared at the goban for a moment. Then Shindou divided the last of the sake between their two glasses and raised his for a final toast. Touya was quite certain he'd had enough, but equally certain he needed to join the man.

"To your mentor and mine – until we can play them again." The glasses were drained, and Touya felt tears dampening his cheeks. What he hadn't expected were the glimmering streaks mirrored on his rival's face. Somehow, it made the moment transcendent. He felt the perfect understanding that sometimes came upon the two of them on the goban, and was filled with gratitude to his old friend. Then the sake overwhelmed him, and his body slumped quietly to the floor beside the game.

"Tch. You never did have a head for sake." But Shindou threw his friend's arm over his shoulder and somehow managed to drag him back to his own futon. Touya's face was a mess, but at least he had well and truly begun to grieve. It wouldn't happen overnight, but Touya would be able to move on with his life. Just like I did...

Hikaru staggered back into the main room, the rice wine catching up with him. He turned out all the lights until only the moon illuminated the room. The darkness mixed with moonlight in a sea of silver and shadows, and the world felt strangely unreal. Against the backdrop of the window, the man could almost make out two silhouettes kneeling beside the goban. A pale smile echoed a stern intensity across the polished wood.

He blinked, and the moment was gone. There were no ghosts to haunt him anymore, but neither was there pain. We'll play again he thought, contentedly, and fumbled for his cell phone.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Then a sleepy voice mumbled on the other end of the line. The drunken man smiled at her understanding. "Akari? It's okay. You can pick me up now."