Pachi. Pachi.
Even though Hikaru could barely hold the stones anymore, still, he played go. He could no longer imagine a life without go – could no longer imagine a life before go, before Sai. Intellectually he knew there had been, and he could even remember those days, in a dim way. But he no longer remembered what he had wanted to be. He no longer remembered an ambition before Touya Akira.
Pachi.
Touya had been his best friend, his greatest rival, and so much more. And now, Touya was gone.
You still have to be first, even in death, don't you, Touya?
Pachi.
Hikaru was replaying their last game together. It had been three nights ago, just hours before Touya had died. Every hand was shining, and perfect; there had been no wrong moves.
But still no hand of God. Does it even exist? All these years, decades…Sai, I don't know if I can do it anymore. Go is a game for two. And Hikaru was alone again. Oh, he was loved, and revered – a legendary figure, in his own time. Shuusaku reborn, they said. If only they had a clue. The thought brought a quirk to Hikaru's mouth, as he laid the next stone.
Pachi.
The game was unfinished; it had been dragging out for hours, and they were both tired. There was always tomorrow to finish it, after all, now that they were no longer young, and rushing for everything. But they had forgotten, both of them, that the old have far less time than the young.
Pachi.
It was the last move, and it had been Hikaru's. His finger rested on the white stone, and he wondered. Every move thus far had been perfect, even. The score was exactly tied, and he knew how rare that was. If we had finished it, would this have been the hand of God? Hikaru picked up a black stone, and rubbed it slowly between arthritic fingers. He would have played here, he thought, with sudden confidence. When he laid the stone, it rang, with an energy and brilliance he hadn't felt in years.
The next stone was white, Hikaru's own move, of course, laid with equal confidence. And the next. And the next.
As he played, it seemed that the years blurred away. There were his fingers, smooth and young, and immortal still. And there were Touya's, on the opposite side, taking control of the lower left corner of the board. But then Hikaru took the up right, and everything was even again.
And then it was done. The board was full, and neither side could make any further move. And there was Touya, and Sai, and somewhere behind them, Hikaru knew that there were others.
"Is there go in heaven, Sai?" Hikaru asked, his voice no longer rheumy and rough with age. The old spirit laughed behind his fan.
"Of course there is. It wouldn't be heaven without go." Hikaru smiled.
"Then can I go with you this time?" he asked, a little wistful. It was Touya who smiled, and answered this time.
"That's why we're here." He extended his hand to Hikaru, across the board. Hikaru took it, and then the world vanished.