Disclaimer: I don't own this

Ne, let's vote on the main character's sidekick

Kaguya Akito

Tanaka Yoshihiro

Or Ishida Shizuka

(Hajimari)

Ishida Haruka heaved a heavy sigh as she watched a young girl whose eyes were fixed onto the road. To be truthful, the elder girl was a little peeved at her little sister's antics. Why did she even bother anymore? She knew they were coming. They've been coming every year for the last four years!

At first, Haruka admitted to herself, she too had been curious. Hell, EVERYONE had been curious. It wasn't everyday that two Tokyoites came to town, cute ones too, though they were a bit too gloomy for her tastes.

But soon enough, the two lost their novelty like all things tend to do. One day, their Kantou dialect which, before seemed so articulate, now became confusing, used as she was to the softer Kansai dialect. Their stunning appearances faded as their personalities failed to come up to par.

Despite his first impression as an over all punk, the elder of the two redheads was a nerdy crybaby. At first, it had been touching to see such a tough looking guy cry in public. It was as if you too, felt his loss. But his visits have proven that he wasn't tough at all. Honestly, it's been four years! Someone oughta give that fool a good smack on the head and tell him to get over it already, but no. Haruka was ready to believe that his only friend was his companion and whoever the hell was lying beneath the tombstone.

The second one was worse; he was a jerk and a total geek. He was impatient with everybody and when something didn't go his way, he became almost rude. Never the less, he was always the one who did the talking, probably afraid that the other one would burst into tears if he opened his mouth. Like his friend, the only thing he seemed to care about, was the spaz he traveled with and the one who's dead.

And guess what?

Every year at precisely twelve o'clock on June 6th, they dragged a goban up hear and played up until about midnight. Seriously, who does that? The dude ten feet under was probably even dorkier than they were, if their yearly present was to give him as much exposure to Go as possible.

Although, it was probably why Shizuka was interested in them.

Her little sister had been born lucky, or blessed if you want to take their grandfather's word for it. An overall perfect daughter, she had been deemed worthy to inherit the shrine and everything that came with it. Haruka, despite being the elder sister, had been bypassed without a second glance. If she were to be honest with herself, she was very jealous of perfect little Shizuka. She'd spent all her life since age six trying to find any little flaw about her sister, but failed until just recently.

Shizuka had been absolutely perfect in just about every way until she was exposed to Go. At first, it was just a little hobby, she excelled at, just like everything else, but then it grew to be something more. Go became such a big thing in her life that Shizuka started joining classes and entering tournaments. She even refused to take on the job of heiress, because it would take up too much of the time she needed to improve her game. That was her fall from grace.

As soon as the family heard that, they immediately gave Haruka back her rightful status and Shizuka was bumped to the side, to be just an ordinary miko. Some of the elders wanted to reconsider because even though she was addicted to Go, she still performed all the duties given to her. But they were out ruled quickly as Shizuka herself, supported Haruka's rise to influence.

For a while, she toyed with the idea of the two nerds being professional Go players or something, well at least, they seemed good. But it seemed ridiculous, after all, Go pros can't possibly have the time to drive all the way here from Tokyo, they have their matches and stuff don't they?

The head priestess to be wrinkled her nose as a dark red sports car drove up to the shrine

If Waya were to be completely honest with himself, he would admit that he hated this place. Some people would of course, love the peacefulness a traditional Shinto shrine had to offer, especially one in as rural a setting as this one was, but Waya hated it. Every time he came here, he was reminded that his most precious person was now gone. That he would never again be infected with that smile, that wonderfully naïve, adorable smile that made every burden seem trivial. He would never again hear that bubbling laughter that tickled so much you had to laugh along even though there was nothing particularly funny. He would never again feel the sense of strength that came with protecting something near and dear. But most of all, he would never again see his reflection in those clear green eyes that let him read Hikaru like a book. He liked Tokyo because all the hustle and bustle of the city kept him to busy to think. All the noise pollution made it impossible to hear his own thoughts. It felt better that way.

But he and Yuki came back year after year, to face with the reality that Hikaru is gone. It didn't make any sense, but in a way it did. He felt obliged to come, for Hikaru, to remain faithful to him despite their different worlds.

Like every year, they paid respect to the priest and his daughter and headed towards the cemetery, Go equipment in tow.

This year, however, Shizuka wasn't present. Waya wondered where the younger sister was. He liked her.

However, it was apparent that this year was going to be different. As soon as they neared Shuusaku's grave stone, it was apparent that someone beat them to it.

In between the two graves lay a goban and two goke. As professionals, they could both tell that the board wasn't made of kaya as all quality goban were. Instead this one was made of a newer, cheaper wood, shin-kaya, or spruce. Opening the goke, they found that the stones were not made of shale and seashell, but glass. Still, Waya spared a small smile, the first he's shown in a few days. It was a modest offering, but it was a wise one. The board and goke were well made and had an old comfortable feeling to it, as if it had been around for some time. The glass stones were smooth and without any chips in their shiny exterior, but not in the new way that signified their having never been touched. No, the set had been in use before, but none the less very well loved.

Yuki was about to move the Go board off to the side so that they can set up their own, but Yoshitaka shook his head.

"Oi, kore wo tsukurou." He whispered

"Doushite?" Yuki didn't understand. As nice as it was, this goban was cheap, and of less than desired quality. A go, genius, like Hikaru, certainly deserved better.

"It reminds me of him." Loving fingers caressed the polished surface of the smooth wood. "This Go set, it's exactly like Hikaru"

"NANDA!?" Yuki looked offended, no angry. "How can we insult Hikaru like that!? How can you insult him like that?!!!!! He wasn't the ideal of the Go world, and he certainly didn't fit into it, but that little dipstick was a prince Waya, a goddamn prince! He was our prince."

"Sou data na?" The elder boy the elder boy picked up a white stone and let it sit in the palm of his hand. The amazing thing was that he didn't bite of Yuki's head just yet. "He was our prince, our upstart prince. And that's exactly why he's like this particular goban."

"Wakaranai." Yuki sighed dejectedly. There was no getting through to Waya when he's like this.

"Look at the board Yuki." It's Yoshitaka's elder brother nature rearing its head once more. "You and I, we've been playing Go for quite some time ne? Ever since we were really young. Most pros are like that, we've been cultivated, consciously or not to play the game. Young or old, kaya is kaya, cultivated for the sole purpose of making goban and goke. Shin-kaya, now that could have been anything. It's a more common cheaper wood that could be used for various purposes. This one just happen to have been turned into a goban. Hikaru, too, came out of virtually no where. Had he not met Sai, he would have never know how to play Go. He would have grown up just like any other kid, becoming whatever. There's always talk amongst us about inferior boards and materials, but during a game, it's all crap. During a game, background and records don't matter. As long as the pieces serve their purpose, it is the game that brings out their shine."

"A misfit board for a misfit player, is that what you're getting at?" Understanding dawned on the other pro's faces.

"Now you get my drift." He smiled, again." It's actually kinda cute."

Yuki moved to sit on the other side as the crimson haired man, almost delicately placed the first black stone.

Like every year, the game started with the old Shuusaku fuseki.

Later

By yose, Yoshitaka's golden eyes had begun to fill up with tears though he still played flawlessly like he always did. In the end, Yuki lost by six moku.

Not wanting to destroy the game, like every year, Yuki walked back to the other side and took into his arms, the only person in the world who knew the extent of his pain.

And like every year, the young priestess showed up with some green tea and a light blanket, knowing that they weren't going to leave until well after night fall.

But this year, with tears, still glittering in his eyes, Waya spoke up

"Were you the one who left this?" The pretty girl, who had already gone beyond the fifth grave stone turned back guiltily.

"Iie," she shook her head. "It was someone who came very late last night. They just set it down and left."

Before wholly walking away, she turned back again. "I'm sure wherever he is, Shindou-sensei is very happy to have such dedicated friends."

Meanwhile

Unbeknownst to the group of three, a small smile dawned upon a fourth, invisible occupant of the cemetery, one that disappeared just as mysteriously as they had come.

(Owari)

kore wo tsukurou - let's use this one

doushite - why?

nanda - what?

sou datta na - that's true isn't it?

wakaranai - i don't understand