I now officially hate Japanese geography. But in return, my appreciation for Google Maps has increased tenfold.

That aside, the third installment is here! This installment is special because I didn't break it up like the others. It just seemed more appropriate to have the whole story up.

I also want to take a little bit of space to thank everyone for all the reviews, alerts, and favourites. You guys truly make my day. Less than 3!

Oh, and before you start reading...

HUGE SPOILER WARNING! I REPEAT: HUGE SPOILER WARNING! Please don't read from this point on unless you know the ending for BOTH series! Actually, you don't even have to know much about what happened in between, but as long as you know how Hikaru no Go and Yu-Gi-Oh end, you're good. Unless you're the type of person who actually likes having things spoiled.

If you're the type of person who skips all the author notes before each story, then I am not responsible for any anger incurred by giving away the endings of two amazing series.

Moving on.

Disclaimer: Don't own Hikaru no Go or Yu-Gi-Oh yadda-yadda-yadda.


It's Time to Play a Game

Chapter 3: For the Ones Who Were Left Behind

The diminutive old man stood at the very back, a little ways away from the rest of the mourners. While some in the crowd were shedding tears here and there, he was feeling annoyed – annoyed that his friend couldn't pick a bigger resting place. The cemetery located behind Ishikiri Temple was lined with upright yet narrow grave markers, making the grounds look something like a mutilated hedgehog. The comparison made the man bite back a bitter laugh.

It's just my own guilty conscience speaking, he chastised himself. He knew he was acting out of a self-imposed resentment. The funeral invitation arrived a few weeks ago, and although he'd been thinking of reclining the offer, he received a second invitation from a very dear friend of his to visit him in Yamaguchi. Since the location of the funeral was on the way, he decided to save time and condense two trips into one, which seemed like a good idea at the time.

He wasn't so sure about that now.

So here he was, over seven hundred kilometres away from home, attending a funeral where he wasn't that close to the deceased anyway. The sense of false obligation left a sour taste in his mouth, which in turn, soured his mood.

"Did you play Go with Inoue-san as well?"

A raspy voice cut through his thoughts, and he turned to see a man about his age take a slow step towards him, being careful to avoid tripping over his own cane. At one point in his life, the speaker would have been about twice his height, but time hadn't been kind to this man.

Then again, time is never kind to anyone, the shorter man thought. At least he still had a full head of hair, complete with crazy spikes. They'd all gone white at some point, making his close friends tease him about being some sort of haloed angel.

"Go? No; never. We were classmates in college at one point, and even attended some research field trips together, but we kind of lost touch after he gave up everything for Go and moved to Kutsuwa City." He glanced at the stranger. "What about you, umm…"

"Shindou. Just call me Shindou," the other smiled easily, and straightened his back a little. "I wish we could have met in a better place…"

"Mutou." They grasped hands, and though he didn't feel like it, Mutou smiled too. "If you're referring to the afterlife as that 'better place', then I think I'd rather meet you as you are right now, on earth."

Shindou made a little noise at the back of his throat, as if he choked on a foreign sound. "Perhaps, Mutou-san. But yes, I did play Go with Inoue-san a long time ago. In fact, I was the only one who managed to beat him in an official tournament!" He paused as if he remembered some inside joke, and let go of the chuckle he'd been trying to hold back, causing someone in the crowd of mourners to shoot him a look of disapproval. "Ah, umm…let's relocate over there, Mutou-san, so we don't disturb the funeral."

"Don't you want to stay for the ceremony?"

"No, not really. Do you?"

Mutou-san shook his head, relieved that someone felt the same way he did. Then he felt guilty for feeling relieved, but he shoved that aside, and followed Shindou's slow shuffle to a different area of the graveyard. The taller man seemed to know his way around, because after they rounded another corner filled with grave markers, he spotted two roughly carved stone seats with a stone table in between. He suddenly realised how much he missed the company of someone his own age – there was an understanding between them that they automatically had.

They sat down, both breathing an inner sigh of relief as they rested their tired feet. They relaxed in companionable silence for a while, listening to the faint chanting of the priest mingle with the smoke rising from the burning incense. The priest paused, and spoke Inoue-san's new name(1).

"Do you know how to play Go, Mutou-san?"

Mutou blinked, and a hazy image of black and white dots appeared in his memories. "Oh, sure. I love playing all kinds of games, although Go is one I haven't played in some time."

"Well, would you like to play a game right now?" Shindou tapped the table's surface, pointing out the ready-carved nineteen by nineteen grid.

"That's interesting. I never would've expected to find a Go table in a cemetery."

"Honinbou Shuusaku's grave is here, so they built this in honour of him."

Ah, the legendary Go player from the late Edo period, Mutou thought, recalling the bits and pieces he could remember about Japanese history.

"So? Do you want to play? Or are you afraid that this former champion will beat you hands down?" Shindou smirked at him, suddenly looking much younger in that moment.

Mutou grinned back. "Brag while you still can, because I used to be unbeatable in any and every game I played!"

"Ohh, you 'used to be unbeatable'. That makes me soooooo scared."

"What about you, 'former champion'-san? Is the pot calling the kettle black?"

They burst into laughter, enjoying the feeling of pulling their inner child out of one another.

"I'll demonstrate the power of a former champion! Now, nigiri!"

"With what, O-powerful-former-champ-who's-going-senile?" Mutou replied, snorting with even more laughter. Shindou scowled, only just having realised that they didn't have stones. Not about to be put out, he thought of a solution.

"We can just play without stones! How about that, eh? We'll see exactly who's the senile one after this game!"

"Ohh, a challenge! I accept!"

They grinned again, played janken in place of a nigiri, and began their game of blind Go.

Only it wasn't so much like a game, and more like a disaster. About ninety moves in, Mutou accused Shindou of playing in a space he'd already played in, which was grudgingly settled, but then another fifty moves later, they got into another argument about whether the stone Mutou just played had really captured three of Shindou's stones. After that argument blew over, both of them couldn't quite remember where the rest of the stones were placed.

They sighed in defeat – truly, they were 'former champions'.

It was Mutou who broke the silence first.

"I'm sorry, Shindou-san. I guess I overestimated myself back there."

"No, no. I thought I could keep up, but I guess I'm just too stubborn." He tilted his head in his own way of acknowledging an equal, before his lips quirked into a smile. "Forgive me for saying this, but I actually quite enjoyed it."

"What, acting like a child?"

"No; sitting across a table from a friend. A rival. Someone to beat, yet someone who understands." He rubbed the end of his cane thoughtfully. "I guess in my own way, I've honoured my memories of Inoue-san."

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Inoue-san was, at first, simply another player at the annual Go tournament for amateurs. Another player to beat. So when he started winning, everyone, including me, thought it was pure luck. When he kept winning, though, I started to study his kifu(2) and watched his games whenever I managed to secure my own win before him. So when I finally faced him in the finals, I thought I was pretty prepared, even though I was feeling quite nervous." He paused, glancing over in the direction of the funeral.

"There's a saying among Go players that goes, 'You never know a person until you've faced them on the goban.' And it's true – I thought I knew Inoue-san's style just from studying it, but until I had actually played him, I didn't – no, couldn't know who he was as a person. It's…it's kind of like reading a textbook about a figure in history and thinking you know all about them, but because you never actually met them face to face, you will never know them at all." He looked at Mutou-san's bright, purple eyes, hoping he could understand.

"We played each other a few times after that tournament, but I know that Inoue-san never made it to the pros. I suppose I'm probably one of the few who remember him as an amateur Go player, rather than a white-collar office worker. And that he wanted to be buried in the same cemetery as the great Shuusaku when he died rather than with his own ancestors, no matter how untraditional, or inconvenient or expensive it was."

Mutou sat in silence, in knowing.

Shindou sighed and leaned on his cane, grunting as he hauled himself out of his comfortable sitting position.

"Well! No use sitting around here; I feel like I'll turn into a statue if I stay in one position for too long and keep thinking such depressing thoughts!" He looked at his watch, a bit of silver peeking from underneath all the black clothing. "It's almost five already? That silly boy didn't even come looking for me yet!"

Mutou also stood, stretching out the kinks in his joints. "'Silly boy'? Who's that?"

"Oh, just my wayward grandson. Well, I shouldn't call him that – he's made a fine man out of himself. He's even a six-dan Go pro, and told me that he'll be promoted to seven-dan if he wins his next game!"

Mutou-san smiled, letting the other elderly gentleman ramble on and on about the pride of his life.

"It's strange that he wanted to accompany me to Inoue-san's funeral, since he never even met the man, but he was so persistent and made so many insulting excuses about 'protecting the elderly' and making sure I won't forget my way home that I just had to take him with me – oh, and speaking of him, there he is."

Mutou-san followed Shindou-san's pointing finger with his eyes, spotting a tall, quiet young man standing straight but with his head slightly bowed in front of a grave marker. His jet-black hair obscured his face, which matched the rest of his funeral attire. In his right hand, he was clutching something long and thin…a fan? In this weather? Strange, but Mutou-san had seen much stranger things in his lifetime.

As they approached the boy, Mutou couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity, as if he'd seen the entire thing before – kind of like experiencing déjà vu, only that the situation seemed backwards somehow. And where the people weren't quite so tall.

"Ah, I should have known. He's really turned into a fine Go nerd, paying his respects to Shuusaku. No wonder he was so keen on the idea the moment I mentioned Inno Island," Shindou muttered under his breath. "Oi, Hikaru! It's time to go!"

The boy turned slowly, as if he recognised his name being called, but not the voice that came with it.

"Hikaru, the funeral's over. We should head back to the bus station." The older Shindou paused, catching a glimpse of the foreign, haunted look in his grandson's eyes. "Were you here the whole time?"

"Errrr, no, not really…" The boy's baritone voice stuttered, his emerald eyes darting around until they landed on Mutou-san's spikey white hair. "Who are you?"

"Oh! Where are my manners – Mutou-san, this is Hikaru. Hikaru, say hi to my new friend, Mutou-san."

They murmured the standard greeting and shook hands, and although the older man could tell Hikaru's mind was somewhere else, he couldn't help but feel drawn to the boy, like the way he'd been drawn to a certain ancient Egyptian artifact. Only now, all that was left of it was an empty box, where anyone who opened it would know that something was missing, but they wouldn't be able to guess what it was unless they knew the box's secret. There was a silent void, like something had just yawned and froze in that position.

Letting go of Hikaru's hand felt like that; like he'd just withdrawn his hand from an empty box.

"Still making friends at your age, jii-chan? Heh. I hope you two played nice."

A box gilded with gold, his mind whispered.

"Why, you – still bad-mouthing your own grandfather? I see that living on your own has done nothing to make you any less immature!" Shindou-san lifted his cane in a threatening manner, causing Hikaru to back away in mock fear. "Don't forget that I know where you live! I should…I should…wait, when does the next bus to Onomichi leave again?"

"Uh…I think at six. Why?"

"Because we're going to be late, baka!" The old man practically yelled while waving his watch in front of Hikaru's face.

"I can't help it if you're getting slower in your old age, jii-chan!"

"Argh, you...I'm sorry, Mutou-san. I'd love to stay longer and chat with you, but we really have to get going. Do you live in Tokyo? No? Well, if you ever plan to visit, look in the phonebook for Shindou Heihachi and give me a call. I'd love to have a rematch with you! Remember, it's Shin-dou Hei-hachi, the 'hei' for 'balance' and 'hachi' as in the number eight! And speaking of rematches, Hikaru, you owe me at least twenty games of Go when we get home…"

"Aww man, but I'm tired of playing shidougo!" his grandson teased, but in a surprising show of respect, he curled his hand – the one not holding the fan – around his grandfather's free arm to support him.

Mutou-san stared at the grandson that was so much like his own, yet completely different, and without thinking, he grabbed the younger boy's elbow, causing him to stop and look at him in surprise.

The pain that haunted those green eyes, that pain had faded to a dull throb, but it was there, and oh, how he must have taken it with the bravest of faces and made the pain his own, like his little Yugi did—

"Ummm, is something wrong?"

"…No. No, it's nothing. I'm sorry."

He watched them go and wished he could follow them forever, if only so he would never have to say goodbye again.

-End of Chapter 3-


(1) In a traditional Japanese funeral ceremony, the recently deceased receives a new Buddhist name to prevent his soul from coming back to haunt the living if his earthly name was mentioned. I got this information from a Wiki page, so if this is completely wrong, please let me know. Like I said, I've never been to Japan before.
(2) A kifu is a record of the games a Go player has played. Each move is recorded on a gridded piece of paper.

I had Hikaru dye his hair back to black, since I can't see anyone, not even him, with such a strange hairstyle for so long. Besides, it was only popular in the 90's. I also made Yugi's grandfather's hair white, because I felt that even though it's grey in the anime, it had the potential of turning white later on. See Yu-Gi-Oh: Season 0 if you're curious as to how he looks with white hair.

Regardless, I really had fun writing this chapter despite the sad setting.

The last chapter will be up soon.

Please review and comment to your heart's content! (And mine!)