"Sai?"

Sai arched an eyebrow at him but remained silent. The hand holding the fan jerked uneasily as if prodding him to hurry and take it. Hikaru gaped motionless; a wave of silence filtered the air pounding in his ears only to be cut of shortly.

"This is yours right? Take it," Sai prodded impatiently. Hikaru's senses rushed back to him leaving a sense of light-headness. Something was wrong…Sai never frowned like that…

Then it hit him: the eyes were not violet but blue; the hair was jet black in the place of purple. But…that aside, the face was the same, identical. This was Sai, but at the same time it wasn't.

'I'm having a heat stroke,' he reasoned stepping back from the sick impersonation of Sai.

Sai's face that was not his face broke into a scowl. Hikaru's mind tried to grip the reality he seemed to be loosing. Having an up and down look of this alien, Hikaru noticed in a second's time that the 'person' was wearing a high school uniform similar to his, he was just as tall as the real Sai and he was wearing his long, black hair in a low pony tail, something Sai never did. Yet the face…the face!

'It's okay Hikaru, I'm here!'

'It's not fair, Hikaru, you get to play everyday…'

'You'll get stronger…you are stronger Hikaru…'

'I'm here'

It was too much, it hurt too much. Hikaru did the only thing he could think to make it all stop: he ran away.

It had been two years since he had felt this way. The pain seemed to be new and raw like he was going through it for the first time. Why did it have to come and haunt him when he was fine, settled, somewhat satisfied? He felt the tears fly of his face but he didn't stop his frantic dash to wipe them off.

The wound Sai had left hadn't healed only festered. It was stupid, really. No—he was the stupid one to have believed he was strong enough not to have someone behind him. How idiotic now it seemed the simple pride he had once felt on having Sai only in his game when deep inside he knew he wanted more, needed more.

'I'm lonely.'

"Where's Hikaru?" Kurata asked, arriving at the Go salon the next day. Isumi and Akira were sitting across from each other but hadn't begun to play yet. Kurata sensed a chill between the two though their faces were impassive.

"He's never late," Akira stated more to himself than anyone. Before more words were shared Hikaru Shindou dashed in the room out of breath. He looked disoriented but before Akira gathered air in his lungs to reprimand him Hikaru walked into a chair and toppled over.

The three watched in stunned silence not knowing whether to laugh or be concerned.

"I'm okay," he winced standing.

"You're late," Akira stated as if Hikaru had merely walked in gracefully rather than crashed clumsily.

"It's okay Touya, don't cry for me, I'll live," Hikaru snapped sarcastically taking a seat on the next empty Go board. Akira got up in a flash, swiftly sitting across Hikaru. Kurata saw this with mild surprise and stole a glance at Isumi wondering how he would take the hasty dismissal from Touya. Aside from a small clenching of the jaw Isumi remained calm keeping his eyes on the Go board.

"Will you be my opponent today Kurata-sensei?" Isumi finally asked noticing the large man's unwavering stare. With a last look at Akira, Kurata settled himself.

"Nigiri," he commanded, Touya and Hikaru began as well.

Four voices echoed, "Please," and it finally began for the day.

The beginning game was uneventful for the first twenty minutes, and then things began to take proportion and meaning. Kurata had to pause for minutes on end, he found Isumi a very worthy opponent every time they played. Isumi just fought for an even game against this great pro.

For Akira and Hikaru this game was beginning to look—

"Horrible! His play is atrocious!" Akira grinded his teeth in frustration glaring at Shindou pointedly, "He's playing more careless than an Insei."

To the mere spectator Hikaru Shindou's expression was one of deep concentration. His eyes narrowed from time to time as if trying to understand the game thoroughly and his lips pursed with the effort. But Akira knew better. Shindou was a million miles away, deep in thoughts that didn't involve the Go board before him. He also noticed something strange; Hikaru's hands were on top of the table clutched nervously and useless. Hikaru usually had his hands under the table clasping that anomalous fan of his.

"Shindou where's your fan?" Akira asked, the question coming out accusatory but he didn't know why.

Hikaru looked up startled like a child caught doing something bad. 'Or a deer caught on headlights,' Akira thought frowning.

"I—I lost it," Hikaru stammered avoiding Akira's eyes.

"You're lying," Akira sighed pushing the basket of stones away to lean forward, "Where's your fan Shindou, you are playing stinks by the way, I suppose because you don't have that thing with you."

Hikaru shook his head slowly, eyes and mouth wide open. After a minute under Akira's intense gaze he surrendered.

"I bumped into this guy yesterday, I guess, h-he has it," it was kind of true, Hikaru told himself, Akira wouldn't see through the hidden true right?

Wrong, Akira was giving him a shrew look.

'He knows me better than I know myself,' Hikaru thought annoyed starting to collect the stones. Akira was right though, this had been an awful game. He knew he was able to play games without that darned fan on his side; it was just the memory of the past day that made him clumsy. He hesitated for a millisecond but shook his head. It had been a misunderstanding of course; there was no one out there with Sai's face. The hair and eyes were different…

'Maybe Sai likes to dye his hair and use contacts, god knows he was odd enough…'

"I have lost," Isumi said loud enough to get their attention.

"Good game kid!" Kurata smiled turning to them, "how was yours?"

"Uneventful," Akira responded, Hikaru breathed an air of relief, glad Akira had decided not to make a big deal of one bad-played game.

They began to discuss the game unaware of the sliding door opening.

A stranger with a long ponytail and blue eyes stepped in. He looked about until spotting what he wanted; the boy with bleached highlights.

"Shindou!"

All four turned but only one's stomach clenched painfully.

Sai's face stared back at him, not only that, he also knew his name!

'Sai, is it really you?' he felt like calling out but afraid of the answer.

"You are Hikaru Shindou, right?" the stranger asked rather curtly.

Hikaru couldn't even bring himself to nod.

"This is Shindou," Kurata replied cheerfully noticing Hikaru's weird hesitation, "Who might you be?"

"I brought you this," the boy said, ignoring Kurata and the question. The paper fan was in his hand, he tossed it to the air. It landed on the floor and skidded to Hikaru's feet, he made no attempt to pick it up.

"I went to all the trouble of finding you to return that piece of trash, the least you could do is say thanks," the boy said sardonically.

Heat went to Hikaru's face, the pain in his stomach disappearing only to be replaced by boiling rage. He looked at the fan at his feet to the cynical boy; finally he scooted down gripping the fan gently then grabbing his backpack.

Akira and the others watched in wonder as to what had made him so furious, he hadn't said a word.

He headed to the door and was about the leave but had a second thought, "I can't believe I ever thought you were Sai."

The door closed behind him, the silence deafening.

Akira was baffled, this boy—Sai? Wasn't Shindou Sai?

The boy stayed rooted to the spot, "Who's Sai?"

(Okay, I apologize, this chapter didn't quite come out like I wanted it to, sorry if it was kinda corny please comment if you think things should be changed.)