The lanterns, painted in delicate patterns, flickered softly as they reflected in the dark waters of the river. People in traditional kimonos moved leisurely along narrow streets decorated with sakura branches and silk banners, their footsteps almost soundless on the smooth stone. The air was filled with the tart aroma of sake, fried eels and incense, and the lingering melody of the shamisen sounded in the depths of the garden.

Tonight is the night of the truce. The elders of the Yakuza clans had gathered under the roof of a single pavilion to honour the traditions that had bound them together for centuries. There was no room for disagreements and bloody conflicts, only the exchange of respectful bows, soft conversations and the clinking of porcelain cups. The young smiled naively, the older ones spoke with reproach in their voices, and the warriors, accustomed to settling disputes with a blade, for the first time in a long time allowed themselves to simply watch the play of shadows on the paper screens.

Under the light of the full moon, peace reigned even among those who had spent a lifetime fighting. If only for one night.

Haru and you were sitting in one of the traditional lodges. Haru was drinking sake. You were playing Go. Haru smirked.

"Once again you beat me."