Transition
Sai realised he'd disappeared the moment Shindo's outline had faded to white and the room that they'd both shared for two years diffused away. Strangely enough, he felt no panic, no anger, no pain.
He didn't feel too bad actually!
He accepted that he'd finally crossed the barriers in between the 'between worlds.' It had been time, he thought, but even so, it had still been a rather abrupt disappearance even if he had been subconsciously acknowledging it ever since Shindo's strength had become more apparent. Sai wasn't jealous anymore - in this transit phase between absolute death and passing on, you suddenly understood things a lot clearer. If during life you viewed everything through a thin veil, then, in death the veil fades and comprehension dawns - like finding a critical area on the Go- board that will save your life and end the opponent's. The Eureka moment, only the understanding happens gently and without the jolt to the body.
Playing Go had been a long journey for Sai, but, as Shukaku had once existed for him to practice and hone his skill, so Sai must have existed for Shindo to enable the child to grow and meet his potential. It had happened so suddenly - the boy had changed from a loudmouth brat, completely ignorant of the customs and traditions of Go to a man who was passionate about the game, the people and the history. Although there was still room for Shindo to grow, Sai's own personal tutoring of the child had become obsolete as Shindo continually sought out harder challenges, others' advice and began to develop of his own accord. Neither master nor pupil, Sai thought, would ever get to complete mastery of the game.
But, then again, would anyone?
Humans are full of such imperfections that becoming the perfect anything is seemingly impossible. There is always room for improvement, even if you have been playing Go for 1,000 years.
The moment Shindo had identified the potential turning point in the game against Akira's father, Sai had realised his time was up. At that crucial point in time, Shindo had demonstrated instantaneous independance and showed that he was able to mature by himself. It had made Sai ecstatic beyond words, but, with that strange fluctuation of parallel emotions, it had also made him unbearably sad. He and Shindo had a relationship that transcended mere friendship. It was part friendship, parentage, tutelage, teamwork, love, patience and trust. Trust more than anything: that they were both walking along the same path and could depend on each other to pull each other forwards. Now, Shindo had more people he could rely on for that - the prodigy Akira...Isumi, Waya and the others. They were the group that Touya-sensei and the other top pros were living for - to pass on their own teachings, their characteristics of playing, their hard earned knowledge to the next generation; to make learning the techniques that much simpler - to make the learning process as easier and almost as natural as breathing air.
The learning process would never end - should never end, Sai thought, but, he added afterwards, now that his own journey was over, he was going to miss watching over Shindo's growth nonetheless.
There was a sudden feeling of a string being plucked and the echo reverberating silently, Sai looked around in mild interest - when had he ever felt so at peace?
Then, he saw him. Sai smiled; Shindo looked elated to see him and was rambling about things that were happening back in his world, about things that, once upon a time, Sai would have been listening to with childlike intensity.
But Sai was finally dead and such matters seemed nice enough yes, but nonetheless they were the affairs of the living. He found himself unable to speak but then again, he didn't need to say anything. He had completed his role in the passing on of knowledge and had tutored Shindo the best of his capabilities. Shindo had even started to think like him and thus Sai would be remembered in the Go that he had taught to Shindo and in the Go that Shindo would play.
There was an inviting light over his right shoulder and Sai gazed at it in solemn appreciation - he was to go there, that was the final process wasn't it? Shindo looked panicked. He would see him again eventually, Sai thought, but before that, Shindo would pass on his own skill - Sai's skill - to yet another generation.
Sai smiled at the child - almost a man now - and held out his fan. Shindo's expression, although pained, was also one of understanding: the light has been lit, and this torch passed on.
As the fan left his fingertips, Sai smiled for one last time. Now it's your turn, Shindo.