After this chapter, there is just one more and then the epilogue. This is where things really start going downhill. By the way, if anyone thinks I own Hikaru no Go, and not Takeshi Obata or Yumi Hotta, I'll have to ask what you're taking. Seriously.

Please continue to read, and I hope that you'll enjoy this chapter!

(The asterisks still don't exist. I'm flummoxed.)

Chapter Five: Fujiwara no Sai

(So please forgive the invisible asterisks.)

But where was the friend that he missed most of all? The one who had disappeared so abruptly? As if in answer, the dream took him to Fujiwara no Sai.

(Miageta oozora no hoshi-tachi no hikari...lol. "Asterisk." Get it?)

Sai's face was lit with a smile as he played Go with the women of the Imperial Court. They always enjoyed having him come teach, always. Even if the rest of the palace came to hate him, he thought he would never tire of these visits. And he also enjoyed them because he was never interrupted.

Until one day, however: he was in the middle of a game when another man came rushing in.

"Fujiwara-sensei," he said, "the emperor has requested your presence."

Sai would have refused if it had been anyone but the emperor. He apologized profusely to his opponent, who smiled and told him not to mind, they could always finish later. He thanked her for her understanding and followed the other man back to the chambers of the emperor.

Many of his court were gathered there, along with the other Go master, who smirked at him as he entered. Sai was not quite sure why the other man disliked him so much. He valued the other teacher as a worthy opponent, even if he did win most of the time against him. But the other seemed to dislike Sai very much, a fact which Sai puzzled over often.

After going through the proper rituals when entering a room shared by the emperor, all in the room sat, deathly still. To Sai they resembled little more than ghosts, their faces invisible. He heard his opponent suggest they play a game.

Yet, before he finished the first word of his sentence, Sai sensed that it was not an ordinary request. There was malevolence behind it.

Sure enough, the next sentence came: "And the winner will keep his position."

Sai was speechless. To leave the palace…? But he almost never lost, and since the emperor approved, he accepted the game.

He remembered the game, every detail of it, but hated to dwell on it. Eventually, during his years inside a Go board, he summarized it to himself like this:

His opponent cheated and accused him of doing likewise.

Everyone agreed with his opponent.

He lost.

And that was the end of it.

However, he would relive that day for centuries to come, until God finally granted him an opportunity to return to the world.

(Kono monogatari wa kokoro no naka de tsuzuiteiru... More "Asterisk.")

How joyous he was! Little Torajirou loved Go, happily letting him play. Oh, they played a great many games together. Torajirou even won titles – Hon'inbou Shuusaku, they called him now!

There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, however – a feeling that his time with Torajirou would be cut short, just like his time with the women of the Court, just like his own life.

A sickness came, swift and deadly, striking almost everyone near Torajirou.

Sai begged him to leave quickly, before he too became ill.

"Sai," Torajirou said to him softly, "how could I abandon these people? I must care for them. I might not be able to play for a while. But don't worry, I'll still play you every day."

Sai had smiled and agreed that this arrangement was suitable.

One of their games (Torajirou was placing the stones for both of them on a board) was interrupted by loud, hacking coughs. Sai looked towards the door, expecting another sick patient coming to ask for Torajirou's help.

Instead, Torajirou fell over the Go board, clutching his chest as he coughed blood.

"Torajirou! Torajirou!"

His student did not answer, only coughed again, even harder this time.

"Get help – a doctor – why didn't you say anything, Torajirou! You could have gotten help–"

Torajirou just smiled, looked at the board, and murmured, "I resign, Sai."

"You still could play – we're only halfway through. Torajirou! Think for a minute! What will I do if you're gone?"

"You'll find another person," Torajirou whispered. "Another – with whom you'll have time to play…the Divine Move. Sai…you'll live forever. Maybe…God will let me watch you play again someday…." The young man coughed violently, his entire body shook with the force.

"Torajirou, don't say such things! Torajirou? Answer me, Torajirou!"

But the man never replied, and Sai felt himself being pulled back into the board….

(Hitotsu! Kazoete susumeba ii... Woops, that's not "Asterisk." It's "My Pace." Oh, well. They're both used as theme songs for the same show.)

He mourned Torajirou for centuries. He wept so hard that the Go board was restained with tears that had faded away, the tears he had shed before he met Torajirou. His student's blood remained on the board, visible only to Sai, long after Torajirou's body was carried from the room and the Go board wiped clean.

Sai stayed this way for many years. He lost count around two hundred. He could not bear it much longer. He wished so hard to play Go again, if it would bring Torajirou's spirit back by playing in the style they had created together.

He played game after game, all the games he had ever played in his life – countless times. Then he went over all the games he had ever seen personally – countless times. Finally, he reviewed all the games he had ever heard of, or seen in a book, or that were replayed for him by other masters of the game – countless times.

And when he had done that, he prayed. He prayed for decades, centuries, with only one plea: Please, let me play Go again. Just once more.

Yet – just as he had felt before the other Go master, just as he had felt when he watched Torajirou care for those less fortunate than himself – he knew that his wish would never be granted.

(Futatsu! Kazoete yasumeba ii...)

He was never conscious of where the Go board he inhabited actually was. Once, someone tried to exorcise him. He was only aware of it afterwards, when he was in pain but yes, still in the Go board. He went over the images that he had seen as the priest had tried to remove him, the "malevolent spirit." It was a small building made of wood – a peasant's shack? A stable? He wasn't sure.

As a result of this attempted exorcism, however, he was able to glance into the world outside his Go board – the real world. This ability had its limits, however: he was able to see Go players (in strange new outfits with outrageously ridiculous machines), but not the boards. Not the games they played. Nothing but the players themselves.

Some of them were young – they were teenagers, around the age he began to become strong. He watched them for years, the group of young players, and mourned for them: they were unhappy. He saw the most promising of them leave, get too discouraged, burn out under pressure or unhappiness.

He saw himself in these players: they were him after he lost the last game he ever played at the palace.

But he could do nothing. He was trapped in a Go board. He couldn't even play with them, couldn't even see their games.

Instead of blessing him, God had cursed him again.

(Mittsu, kazoete kangaerya ii...)

He was distraught. The young ones he had been following for years were either dead (through accidents, natural causes, and a suicide), gone (to foreign countries or simply off the face of the earth), or had lost all spirit. There was no hope. And he had been unable to help any of them. He could not bear to watch the outside world any more.

He began to travel back to the Go board, in the direction of the building that he now knew was called a shed, and saw a spiral of black curling into the sky. Strange.

He continued home, in the same direction as the smoke. As he came into view of the yard, he realized what was on fire: the shed. His shed. The shed with his Go board in it.

But since he had no physical body (which was painfully obvious now, having come from trying one last time to get through to a distraught thirty-one-year-old that he had been watching since the boy was sixteen), he could do nothing once again.

Only be burned to death.

At least he would not have to watch those players suffer anymore. But he would have liked, just once, to see their games.

(Mai peesu de susumereba ii...)

Had he been awake, he would have realized he was crying. He was crying for the best friend he had ever had, for Sai. Now he was certain. Even though he had been hurt deeply by Sai's disappearance, he knew it was better for him to have lived, to have met Sai – and for Sai to have met him.

He was convinced. He did not want to see any more.

He had been hurt enough.

But he did not wake up.

(And thank God we've reached the end of the chapter because I don't know what else to put in place of the invisible asterisks.)

One more main chapter to go! Thanks very much for reading! (I'm actually pleased with this chapter, too. It didn't go through much editing, though – sorry!) Since I already have the next chapter written, I'll update within a week. Please review! (Reviews motivate me to update faster! I promise!) Again, please stick with the story and thanks for reading!