The ladies in the castle would hold their sleeves over their painted lips, whisper, giggle, glide away.

They all agreed. There was something different.

He had always been a quiet child, absorbed in his games. But after spending a year in his hometown before returning to the castle, he had changed.

He steadily, rapidly rose in rank, overtaking even the teachers; stones flowing seamlessly from one to the other.

Others watched from afar, wondered at this strange boy who plodded about the castle – many observed that he laughed out loud although he was alone, pointed out to no one a particularly beautiful flower blooming amongst the weeds.

The moon reflected off the pond in the garden.

Head cocked to the side, a slight tilt towards the sky. His lips parted, shaping soundless words.

Sai loved music as well; the weight of a wooden flute no longer quite as real in his hands, and yet, he could put it to his lips, dredge up almost-forgotten songs from memory.

He looked down at the boy peering up at him.

He snatched up notes from the air - wove them into amusing tunes to entertain the boy on restless days, soothing lullabies to put him to sleep, still melodies on moonless nights.

The boy clapped his hands in time when it was a familiar song, or tapped his fingers lightly against ground.

It was music no one else could hear, music that only belonged to them. It was lonely, playing a music that did not echo or vibrate - but it was worth the dreamless nights in the void, without even a smile to share.

The leaves on the trees rustled.

He did not remember how the wind felt. But looking straight into only eyes that held his reflection, he could imagine.