A/N: I blame this story on the beautiful fanart I found here (minori.raindrop.jp/), particularly the two lovely pieces featuring Sai and Torajirou (or his back, anyway). Shuusaku information, of course, was taken from Sensei's Library.

May

He felt like he had awoken from a long sleep. The last thing he remembered was regret, that he could not stay longer.

Can you hear my voice? Hikaru? It was fun…

It felt so long ago, though he knew it was still the same day. Sai blinked and looked around again. He was in a field of tall grasses. A breeze danced through his hair. Far off, he could see a modest house with a thatched roof. There was not a single modern building or looming skyscraper in sight, not a hint of impatient traffic to shatter the strange, peaceful idyll he found himself in. He took a great deep breath, feeling very alive.

Someone was next to him, he suddenly realized. He turned to greet his companion just as the same person said, "Sai," in a soft, familiar voice.

Great delight swept across Sai's face. "Torajirou!" He embraced his former host, his large white sleeves enveloping the youngish man. "Torajirou! Torajirou!" he laughed.

The other man was just as Sai remembered. He had died at the age of 34, but without the illness wearing down his body, he looked healthier and younger. His longer-than-shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he wore a plain, modest blue cotton kimono. But something was still wrong. Despite his smile and evident joy, there was sorrow in his eyes and an apology on his tongue.

"Sai," Torajirou said, "I've been waiting for you. I-I'm sorry I had to leave you all alone then without even—"

Sai realized what he was trying to say and waved his arms wildly in an attempt to hush him. "No, no! You have nothing to apologize for, Torajirou!"

"But because of me, because I fell ill, you weren't able to—"

"I won't hear any more," Sai huffed sternly, crossing his arms. "Torajirou has no need to apologize for anything."

Torajirou laughed a little. "You're still the same, Sai. But even so, I am sorry…" He trailed off under Sai's glare, and smiled ruefully. "Very well. Don't expect to hear any more apologies from me then. Even if you deserve them."

Sai shook his head vigorously. "I don't deserve any apologies. If anything, I should be the one apologizing. I hardly thought about how selfish I must have been with Torajirou, but now I know I—"

He was cut off by a sudden embrace, its abruptness matched only by its surprising tenderness. Torajirou was a few centimeters taller than Sai, but he had lowered his head to rest it on Sai's shoulder.

"Sai has no need to apologize for anything," Torajirou murmured teasingly, reflecting the former ghost's words back at him the same way he did with his go. Then, more seriously: "Let the past rest. I'm just glad to see you again."

"So am I," Sai answered, and closed his eyes.

The cottage was Torajirou's. It was where he and his wife lived in this life.

"How is Sawako-san?" Sai inquired, looking around the empty home as Torajirou poured them both tea. It was a simple, traditional dwelling with a kitchen and bathroom attached to the main tatami room.

"She is well. She visits her parents in the city quite often though, actually. She's away on such a trip this year too."

Torajirou had married at the age of twenty, not long after it was decided that he would become the heir of the Honinbou house. "This year? Why would she do that? Doesn't that make you lonely?" Sai asked with a frown. It was strange to think that Torajirou's dutiful wife of fourteen years would leave her husband alone for such long stretches of time.

Torajirou shrugged abashedly. "To tell the truth, I never told her why I wanted to live out here, where nobody else is. I never told her about you, even after she crossed over and joined me here. I guess…the secret was taking its toll. Besides, she doesn't like it, to be far away from other people."

Sai had half-opened his fan reflexively as he evaluated the other man's answer. "You need other people too," he pointed out. "Go is a game for two."

Torajirou placed a cup of cold sencha tea on the low table in front of Sai. "And now there are two," he said, very logically. He sipped his own tea. "I told you, I was waiting for you."

Sai tucked his fan into his sleeve and reached for his own cup. "Thank you," he said, though whether it was for the tea or for his words, Torajirou wasn't sure.

He was sure about the somber mood that Sai had fallen into, though. There was only one thing for it. "Shall we play a game?" he asked.

Torajirou didn't know how he did it, but Sai bounced. "Yes! Of course!" He clapped his hands in delight. "But where…?"

His host pulled a board and two wooden goke out from under the table. "Right here."

"A game with Torajirou!" Sai grinned evilly. "I've learned a lot of new things in these past few years. Prepare to lose!"

The game ended with Torajirou resigning shortly before yose. He rubbed his forehead. "That was just a warm up," he declared. "Don't think I've just been wasting these years while I've been waiting for you."

"Then show me! One more game!" Sai demanded.

They played several more games, until night fell and they both lay tiredly content on the futons Torajirou had laid out side by side.

"Torajirou still has things he can learn from me," Sai said.

"You could have taken it a little easier on me, considering this was your first day back," came Torajirou's sleepy retort. "Your black has become more aggressive."

It's because of the modern komi rule, Sai thought, but he said nothing. He stared into the darkness, thinking about the world he had left behind and listening to Torajirou's breathing became slower and deeper.

"Torajirou?"

"What is it?" Torajirou had to have been almost asleep just before Sai's quiet call, but if he was annoyed, he didn't let it show in his voice. So different from Hikaru.

"I haven't found it yet. The Hand of God."

"I know." Torajirou didn't sound surprised or disappointed, and for some reason, Sai felt relieved. "But you found him, didn't you? Your rival."

Sai smiled. "Yes. Touya Kouyo. Touya-sensei. But he's still…he's not here. And I shouldn't, but…I wish…"

Again, Torajirou answered with a strangely reassuring, "I know." His hand found Sai's midway between their futons, and he grasped it with a firmness Sai found comforting.

Perhaps because it was late and it had been an eventful day, or because he felt like he was alive again, in a world where he once more had a place, or because of Torajirou's comforting hand around his own, but whatever the cause, Sai allowed a melancholy sigh to escape.

"I miss Hikaru," he whispered. "I didn't want to leave so soon. Even though I'm glad to see Torajirou again. But Hikaru…He doesn't understand why I had to leave." A fragile silence fell, then Sai added, even more quietly, "I wish we could have said goodbye, at least." He blinked, allowing a few tears to fall. "Hikaru…"

When Torajirou shifted closer to bring one arm around Sai, the former ghost gratefully burrowed into his embrace and cried tears of unashamed longing.

"Hikaru will be fine," Torajirou said, patting Sai's back awkwardly. "I promise."

"Do you…do you think he misses me?"

The question was so faint that Torajirou wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't had his head right next to Sai's. "Of course he does," he answered. "Go to sleep. Tomorrow I'll tell you a secret." He patted Sai's back rhythmically until only the deep, tranquil breaths of the sleeping filled the night.

"You left him on May fifth, right? So every May fifth, you are permitted to visit him. He won't be aware of your presence like before, but for that day, you may stay with him. This is the rule."

Sai was delighted, of course. "Really? I can't wait! Oh, but…" Realization dawned on him. "It's only May sixth today, isn't it?" He drooped.

Torajirou laughed. "May fifth will come before you realize it. Why don't you tell me about Hikaru-kun in the meantime? I was only able to visit you once a year, after all."

"Torajirou visited me when I was with Hikaru?" Sai brightened.

"I did," the other man answered.

"Oh, I hope you didn't think too badly of Hikaru! He can be rather childish sometimes, especially when he was younger, but really, he—"

"Have you forgotten that you were with me when I was a child too?" Torajirou interrupted with a smile. "I understand what it is to be a child."

Sai blushed in embarrassment. "Of course. I haven't forgotten." A wistful smile came over his face. "I always spoke well of Torajirou to Hikaru, and Hikaru would become jealous and upset over it."

"Sai!" Torajirou rebuked.

"But that was because I missed you," Sai added hurriedly. "I remember now though, Torajirou was a difficult child too." He laughed and danced out of the way when Torajirou reached out a hand to smack him.

They were walking across the long fields to the nearby village to mail a letter. Sai had insisted that Torajirou try to clear up the misunderstanding with his wife, because surely Torajirou missed her, and it wasn't right for Sai to have come between them, however unknowingly and inadvertently.

"She will return on her own, in her own time," Torajirou had protested. "It's not your fault that things have turned out this way between Sawako and me."

Sai shook his head. "Even so, it's not right to leave things as they are." He had given Torajirou a stern glare, and when that wasn't quite enough, he had wheedled and insisted until Torajirou did as he asked.

"I spoil you, you know," Torajirou said as the village came into sight. In the end, he had complied by writing a simple letter, asking her to return so that he could introduce her to a particular friend of his.

"I know," Sai answered cheerfully. Again, the former ghost could feel the wind blowing against his face and sweeping past his hair. It was so good to be here. With Torajirou, he added to himself, taking an appreciative sidelong glance at his companion who had also stopped to enjoy the sudden breeze. Torajirou caught his eyes and smiled, and Sai couldn't help but take the opportunity to envelop his friend a great big hug. "Torajirou!" he cried happily, "Let's hurry up and finish this so we can play a game when we get back!"

Sai liked Torajirou's go. It wasn't strong and deeply solid in the same way that Touya-sensei's was, nor was it the same startling mix of creative brilliance and the classical that was Hikaru's go. Mostly, it reminded Sai of his own go, more strongly than even Hikaru's did. It was elegant and sharp, bold and insightful and unmistakably Torajirou. They had played together since Torajirou was a child, and playing him again last night had almost been like playing his old self. Torajirou's go reflected Sai's go, but Sai's go also held fundamental elements of Torajirou's go.

The two and a half years he had spent with Hikaru had changed Sai's go, and the former ghost was eager to see how Torajirou would adapt to modern joseki and the komi rule.

June

It was a month later when Torajirou's wife arrived. There had been a letter a week before, and then one afternoon, a knock at the door. When no one answered, Sawako opened the door to find her husband and an androgynously pretty young man seated across from each other, both deeply engaged with the game that lay between them.

"Shuusaku," she called. "I've returned."

Torajirou looked up, surprised and flustered to find that he had missed her arrival. She was a comely woman, dressed in a red kimono. Her hair was pinned up in simple coiffure, and Torajirou thought it had been a long time since she had appeared so lovely to his eyes. "Oh, Sawako, welcome back." He stood hastily, and Sai followed suit. "Thank you for returning. I wanted to introduce you to my friend here. He only just arrived last month."

Sai bowed deeply. "I am honored to finally meet you. I am called Fujiwara no Sai."

Sawako bowed in return. "Please call me Sawako. I am pleased to make your acquaintance." She hesitated, looking like she had several dozen questions she wanted to ask, but after only a moment, she settled for, "If I may ask, how did you meet my husband? I see you play go as well."

Sai met Torajirou's eyes, and Torajirou cleared his throat nervously. "Sawako…I should have told you, but Sai is…We always played go together, from the time I was a child. He was the one I was waiting for out here, all these years. I couldn't tell you before. I didn't know how to."

Sawako tilted her head in confusion. "But why not? And why did it take him a hundred and fifty years to come here? Surely if you played go together as children, he crossed over long before last month?" She didn't hide her curiosity as she gazed boldly at him, at his eboshi hat, at his Heian era robes.

"I died a thousand years ago," Sai tried to explain. "My spirit lived in a goban until Torajirou found me, and we played go together every day."

"Sai was my ghost," Torajirou added. "I let him play my games. Without him, I wouldn't have become who I did. I wouldn't have become Honinbou Shuusaku."

Unsurprisingly, Sawako looked like she was having a hard time digesting the information. "I see…"

"I was in the living world with another boy until recently," Sai continued. "When I crossed over, Torajirou was here for me. I was so glad to see him. I know you didn't approve of his living out here, especially since Torajirou didn't even say that he was waiting for me, but I don't want Sawako-san to be angry or estranged from him just because of me because I know Torajirou, at least, would—"

Torajirou placed his hand on Sai's arm, effectively silencing him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Sawako," he apologized. "It was a secret I kept for so long that I didn't know how to tell anyone, even you. And I didn't want you to think less of me, for not playing my own go."

His wife shook her head. "I will never understand you go players. Not my father, not you." She gave Sai a wry smile. "Since Shuusaku holds you in such high esteem, I can't hold anything against you, Fujiwara-san. But I still need some time to understand." She turned to Torajirou. "I'm glad you finally told me. But if you don't mind, I would like to return to the city as soon as possible, all the same."

Torajirou nodded, a soft sigh escaping. "Won't you at least stay the night? It's a long journey back, and this is still your home too."

"Very well," she accepted.

She watches them clear the board after a game and sees what they do not. She is used to seeing skilled players separate black from white and scoop up the pieces between their palms with great speed. Her father, Jowa, was one of the best, after all. But there is an air of delicate intimacy surrounding Shuusaku and Fujiwara-san as they clear the board. It only takes a few seconds for it to be done, but in those few seconds, she sees that the two are in perfect harmony. Their hands almost brush several times as they gather black stones and white stones, but not once do they touch in all their speedy efficiency. Shuusaku scoops up one last handful of black to pour into the goke, Fujiwara-san one last handful of white, and they finish clearing the board at the exact same time.

"Sawako-san, are you sure you don't want to play?" Fujiwara-san asks, turning to her.

She would have assumed he was just asking out of politeness if it weren't for the way his eyes were wide and begging, the way his lips were pushed out into an adorable pout. All his body language told her that he would love to play her, but she has not felt like playing go for many, many years. She is charmed by Fujiwara-san, nevertheless, and it takes all her willpower to say, "No, I'm sorry. It's getting late and I'd like to prepare for bed. Maybe next time."

He is deflated, but then Shuusaku moves the table to the wall and starts unfolding the futons, and Fujiwara-san rushes to help.

"Torajirou, I can do this. You should take better care of Sawako-san," Fujiwara-san scolds.

"But Sai, this will be much faster if we work together," Shuusaku protests. To prove his point, he quickly distributes three pillows and three blankets between the two futons Fujiwara-san has just unfolded. "See, now we're done already."

Fujiwara-san looks a little troubled, and Sawako thinks she knows why. "There are only two futons," Fujiwara-san says. "I can sleep on the floor with one of the extra blankets, and we can make another room with the sliding doors. Torajirou, you and Sawako-san take the futons." His face is a little flushed. "I'm sorry I can't give you more privacy…"

Sawako is privately amused because she can hardly remember the last time since crossing over that she and her husband have had intimate relations, and she knows it is one of the last things on Shuusaku's mind as well.

"Don't be silly, Sai," Shuusaku says. "The three of us can find a way to squeeze onto two futons. I don't think any of us is that large."

Sawako nods. "I don't mind," she agrees.

Fujiwara-san doesn't look convinced. "But Sawako-san is a lady, and furthermore, she has a long journey ahead of her tomorrow. Torajirouuu…" he whines, pulling on Shuusaku's arm, and Sawako turns her head to hide a silent laugh.

Her husband heaves an exaggerated sigh. "I understand," he says. He gives Sawako a look that says, see what I have to put up with, and then pronounces, "Sawako can have one futon, and we'll share the other one, somehow."

"Good Torajirou!" Fujiwara-san beams proudly at Shuusaku and pets him as though he were a dog that had learned a new trick.

When the lights are turned off, Sawako smiles to herself because whatever Fujiwara-san was, he was good for her husband.

August

After Sawako's return to the city, they fill their days with go. Torajirou and Sai continue their games together, and while Sai can't put thoughts of Touya-sensei entirely from his mind, sometimes he wonders if he can reach the Hand of God with Torajirou. Some nights, he dreams that the Hand of God is so close he can see it if he opens his eyes.

Torajirou takes him to meet other go players they had once played together—Shuwa, the former head of the Honinbou house; Shuho, Torajirou's successor; Josaku, Gennan, Ota, and even Honinbou-Meijin Godokoro Jowa, Sawako's formidable father. They aren't told who Fujiwara no Sai really is. To them, he is only a peculiar friend of Honinbou Shuusaku—until he trounces them across the board.

It was far more enjoyable to keep the Edo era go community in an uproar than to tell them their secret and spoil everything, and so after a few days among Torajirou's contemporaries, Torajirou and Sai would always retreat back to their distant cottage.

Despite all the fun they had, all the games they played, Torajirou could see that something was still missing. One day, he found Sai flipping through his calendar.

"May fifth will come, Sai," he said.

Sai spun guiltily around, as though he had been caught with greasy fingers on the emperor's goban. "I know," he sighed, and looked away. "I just wonder how he's doing. Has he been improving? Is he catching up to Akira-kun? Is he happy?"

Torajirou put a hand on Sai's shoulder. "Sit," he said, and pressed a cup of cold barley tea into Sai's hands. They sat side by side on the tatami floor, backs against the wall and legs stretched out in front of them. Sai usually chose to sit in seiza or some variation thereof even when he wasn't before a goban; that he matched Torajirou's positioning today was unusual. Torajirou took note of it but did not remark on it.

"When I crossed over," the one-time Honinbou heir said, "I was alone. The students I had cared for before I fell ill myself should have been here, but even though I searched, I could not find them. And you weren't here, Sai." He laughed hollowly. "A part of me was actually hoping you'd come with me when I died. Or that maybe I could be a ghost with you in the living world. But when I found myself here, alone, I knew, I knew that you had stayed behind to continue searching for the Hand of God. And I was glad for you, but…I was alone. And I was scared."

Sai saw Torajirou's hand trembling, and without hesitation, took it into his own. "Torajirou. I'm here," he said.

Torajirou gave him a grateful smile and continued his story. "I hadn't been apart from you since I was eight years old. I can hardly even remember a time when you weren't with me. Missing Sawako was nothing compared to missing you. You know I loved her, but I was apart from her often to attend our games. You were my other self, Sai, my greater half. Without you, I had to learn how to live all over again."

Sai made a noise of protest, but Torajirou hushed him. "It's true. Without you to support it, I was even afraid of my own go. I was afraid of all the weaknesses I would find in it, and I didn't dare face anyone I knew for fear they would discover that what they thought was my go was actually your go.

"I missed you so much, and I couldn't even visit you because you were sealed inside the go board, under all my blood." Torajirou's tone turned bitter, and his fingers tightened around Sai's. "I was a coward for the longest time, and it was no wonder that Sawako tired of me soon after she arrived."

"But Torajirou's nothing like that now," Sai said.

"Even that was thanks to you," Torajirou admitted. "One day I sensed that you had awoken. And then I remembered that you were still searching for the Hand of God, and I thought how shamefully I had been living in comparison. So I found my way again," he finished.

"I'm glad you did," Sai said earnestly.

"That's how I know Hikaru-kun will find his way too. From what I saw, he's made of hardier stuff than I am."

Sai chuckled. "If you mean that he's far more stubborn and willful, then yes, you could say that." A brief, comfortable silence followed, and then, "Thank you, Torajirou."

"There's no need," came the easy response.

"Actually…there's one more thing," Sai said hesitantly.

"What is it?"

Sai gave his companion a searching look, and then, having reached an internal decision, removed his hat and lay his head on Torajirou's shoulder. Torajirou froze for a moment as his brain processed the fact that this was not one of Sai's usual comfortable, affectionate gestures, but something else entirely. And it was something he had wanted all along, something that explained why his chest warmed whenever he was with Sai and why his heart was suddenly pounding now. Slowly, he untangled the fingers of his one hand from Sai's, and raised it tentatively to comb through the other man's long, dark hair.

Sai closed his eyes. "Sometimes," he said, "I dream of Touya-sensei. He's sitting in an empty room—somewhere in his home, I think—and there is a goban before him. He's put down a black stone on the upper right hoshi, and he just sits there, waiting, even though there's nobody else in the room. And I know he's waiting for me. I should be there, sitting across from him, playing white to his black. I know he's telling me he'll wait, however long it takes. But…" Sai took a deep breath, and opened his eyes.

"But I want to play him now." His voice resounded with longing. "Torajirou, is there no way I can play him now?" Sai had lifted his head to look entreatingly at his friend.

Torajirou didn't want to say it, but there was nothing else he could say. "Sai, you know the answer to that."

Sai drooped. "I know." He half-rose to set his empty teacup onto the table.

"Just be patient. I'm a poor substitute, but you'll have to make do with me in the meantime." Torajirou tugged his companion toward him at the same time that Sai was settling back down, with the end result of Sai tumbling into him headfirst, knocking him back against the wall.

His head ached from the impact, and in his dizziness, it took him a second longer than it should have to realize that Sai was resting his head quite comfortably against his chest, each of his hands loosely grabbing a fistful of the front of Torajirou's kimono.

"I like Torajirou's go," Sai was saying. "It's not a poor substitute at all." His eyes flickered fondly upward at Torajirou.

"I spoil you, you know." Torajirou wrapped his arms around Sai's shoulders.

"I know." Sai closed his eyes again and listened to Torajirou's heart beat, once, twice, three times, four times, five (go—Hikaru's number five t-shirts flashed through his mind, making him smile)…He breathed deeply, relishing Torajirou's scent, Torajirou's warmth, and was reminded of how good it was not to be a ghost anymore.

…Three hundred fifty-eight. Three hundred fifty-nine. Three hundred sixty. Three hundred sixty-one. The number of intersections on a full-size go board. At Torajirou's three hundred and sixty-first heartbeat, Sai opened his eyes and sat up. "Torajirou, let's play go!"

"Huh?" Torajirou had been on the verge of dozing off.

"You said I had to make do with you! How am I supposed to be satisfied with you if we're not playing go?" Sai puffed out his cheeks indignantly.

"Okay, okay," Torajirou laughed, stretching as he got up. "Go it is."

October

A letter arrived from Sawako.

"She's sorry it took her so long to write, but she's glad that we both seem to be doing well. She's pleased to have met you, and she thinks you're a good influence on me," Torajirou summarized needlessly for Sai, who was reading over his shoulder.

"She's coming again early next year!" Sai exclaimed, pleased. "And she'll stay longer this time. Do you think she'll play go with me this time, Torajirou?" He waved his arms excitedly.

"I think she just might," Torajirou said. "Oh, what's this?" Sai had knocked the envelope to the floor, and a second, smaller envelope had fallen out. "It's for you," he said in bemusement, handing the long, thin envelope marked, "To Fujiwara-sama" to Sai.

Sai slid a single sheet of gold-flaked stationary out and colored as his eyes rapidly took in the elegant script.

"What does it say?" Torajirou asked, slipping the paper easily from Sai's hands.

He read the short message aloud. "Dear Fujiwara-san, it was a great pleasure to have met you. I look forward to seeing you again. I promise to play a game of go with you next time, but in return, please take good care of my husband. I leave him entirely to you. Sincerely, Sawako."

Torajirou's eyes searched out Sai's and found equal amounts of embarrassment and confusion in them. "Surely she doesn't mean what she sounds like she's saying…does she?" Sai asked, flustered.

"She knows what she's saying," Torajirou said. Oh Sawako… "You know her as well as I do. That's the kind of woman she is."

"Then…what exactly is she saying?" Sai had lowered his eyes.

A warm hand cupped the former ghost's cheek, and a thumb calloused from a lifetime of picking up go stones ran lightly over his lips. Sai quivered and looked up.

"She's releasing me to you," Torajirou breathed, his face close to Sai's. "She's saying it's okay to do this." He leaned in and kissed Sai slowly, lingeringly. "I'm yours now, Sai, if you'll have me."

Sai's eyes reflected his wonder. "Torajirou," he whispered. A brilliant smile broke over his face like rays of sunlight after a spring rain, and he hugged Torajirou—who was his now—tightly. "Torajirou!" he cried, "I'm so happy! Of course I'll have you! Sawako-san is so kind!" A perplexed look came over his face, and he drew out his fan and tapped his lips thoughtfully. "But how did she know?"

"She's better at reading people than life and death situations on the goban," Torajirou answered. They both had a good laugh before Torajirou drew Sai's fan away from his face and leaned in for another kiss.

It was only a week later, in the unidentifiable hours when the deep midnight blues of the sky were still puzzling over whether it was time yet to let the pale greens, yellows, and pinks take their first breaths of the coming day, that Sai slipped out of Torajirou's embrace and dressed himself. He had felt restless all evening, and hadn't been able to sleep at all. Now he knew why.

"Sai?" Torajirou had half-roused himself and watched his lover in sleepy confusion.

Sai's eyes were shining. "I can hear him. Hikaru is calling me."

"What?" Torajirou was wide awake now.

"I can hear Hikaru calling me," Sai repeated, feeling strangely calm despite the great joy bubbling within him. He placed his hat on his head, made sure that his fan was tucked inside his sleeve, and knelt next to Torajirou. "I'm going to meet him. I will be back," he reassured him, seeing the question in his eyes. He touched his fingers lightly to Torajirou's cheek for a brief moment, then rose. His face turned heavenward, looking at something Torajirou could not see, and then he was gone.

Hikaru had grown up so much.

Sai could not speak, but he wanted Hikaru to know that he was proud of him. But already, too soon, it was time to go.

"Don't go! Say something!" Hikaru cried. "Don't disappear on me!" Desperation had come into his eyes. "Sai!"

Sai held his sleeve back with one hand as he drew out his fan, handle-first in offering, with the other.

Take.

Hikaru stared at it for a moment. "…Sai." And then he held out his own hand in acceptance. Sai passed him the fan.

Thank you, Hikaru.

The sun had already risen by the time Sai returned. He stood quietly amidst the tall, waving grasses. Peace had settled in his eyes. Torajirou had at least twenty questions he had wanted to ask, but when he saw Sai, he understood immediately. There was no need for words.

Torajirou settled down in the grass next to Sai, flattening a spot to sit on. He turned his gaze toward the blue skies in the far distance and imagined young inexperienced fingers boldly slamming down a go stone on sturdy kaya for the first time.