I deeply apologize for the inexcusable delay - I'm far too lazy for my own good. I'm very very grateful for your kind thoughts.

Hikaru checked again his camera as he waited next the main entrance of the Japanese Go Association. He had arrived early and was quietly waiting for Amano-san. The match was scheduled at nine a.m., and he had almost two full hours to get in place before the beginning.

Out on the street, it was a crisp autumn morning, and the sun was still under the horizon. He had left the subway a block early, so that he could walk with a cup of hot tea held to his face and enjoy the particular sensory pleasure of its heat on his lips and nose in contrast to the dawn chill in the air.

There was something about being in the city at this kind of time that agreed with him these days. Sounds were muted, colors were paler, and people were scarce. The low ebb of the early morning seemed to match his mood. Lately, he preferred its solitude.

The young man had put on a plain suit under his wool coat, the kind of attire which let him easily blend in the most of situations. As a reporter, he was susceptible to interview a large panel of people, and everyone was likely to answer more easily when they could relate to the interviewer. For this reason, he had disregarded his bleached bangs years ago.

He had trouble picturing the kind of people who played Go for a living, and deep down, he was afraid to not be sufficiently qualified to meddle in this small world where everyone seemed to know each other. Frowning, he mentally shook himself out of his insecurities. For him, Go was forever linked to the elegant and otherworldly image of Sai. No one could exude his level of dignity - when the ghost wasn't busy fooling around - , and Hikaru was convinced he couldn't be intimidated by anyone if he kept this memory in his mind. Consult of old issues of Weekly Go had taught him that while there were indeed old and traditional people, there were a bunch of young yet very promising players. Some were Hikaru's own age, and a few were even much younger.

Sun chose this moment to peek over the horizon and bath everything in a rosy glow. The dew gathered over grass and dying leaves sparkled like thousands tiny gems, conferring a very eerily aura to the area. Being a photographer, Hikaru jumped at the chance to take pictures of the building and its surroundings. They would make a fine job at illustrating any random paper about the Institute.

"Ah, Hikaru-kun!" someone called out. Hikaru put away his camera safely in its case and turned toward Amano-san. The man sported an open smile, and seemed to have rushed to arrive, if his slightly laboured breath was telling. "I can see you're already at work! Good, good, I'm sure you'll make a great partner in the future."

Hikaru bowed toward his co-worker and answered politely: "I was waiting for you, Amano-san. I look forward to working with you today, so please, take care of me."

"Of course! Anyway, it's time to take a good spot to see the match and collect reactions of the spectators." He rubbed his hands in glee. "It's a great occasion for beginning your career, young man. No doubt it will be a match of great quality, and everyone's impatient to watch it."

"Both players are surprisingly young for a title match," said Hikaru while pulling the heavy front door of the institute. "Does it happen a lot?"

Amano smiled knowingly. "More and more these times. It's very exciting to see this renewing. Currently, a lot of young players are attracted toward Go, it's a blessing for the discipline. Fifteen years ago, people feared that Go would be soon an outdated hobby, but now, the internet gave the game a new lease on life. It's very refreshing. The new wave is here, and it seems old players have trouble to keep the pace."

The man was saluting almost everyone they crossed in the hallway. A few minutes later, they arrived in a huge room with gobans set on tables and people around, chatting quietly despite the almost palpable excitation filling the atmosphere.

"Our readers like to know pros' thoughts about a big game," said Amano-san in a hushed tone. "It helps them constructing an analysis and orients them on the key moves of the game. While you are here, you'll help me gather everything you think will be useful to make a good report. Don't hesitate asking," he advised while pointing toward a group of young people. They seemed to be nearby Hikaru's age, and were seated around a table in a quiet corner. "Isumi-san and his friends are always welcoming. They are serious when they comment a game. Go ahead and present yourself, I'm sure you'll be well received."

Nodding, Hikaru thanked the man and ambled quietly toward them. They were four, three men and one woman, and all of them displayed a certain ease betraying long hours spent in similar situations. Having rehearsed lists and face of current pro players, Hikaru recognized them as belonging to the young generation of players. They were busy discussing a game, if the kifu held by the short one with glasses was any indication. Frowning and speaking animatedly, this one seemed to be annoyed at one of his comrades, a young man with hairs in disarray and a relaxed attitude, brows up and a taunting half-smile tugging his lips.

" -not saying that Ogata-kisei will definitely win today, but Touya hasn't be very impressive in their previous official match, Waya. See there and there!" he said while authoritatively pointing spots on the goban.

Shaking his head, the other man replied: "You can't say those are glaring mistakes, Ochi. Maybe those hands have led to Touya's defeat, but they could have been very effective if Ogata haven't been this careful."

The third man, tall and with chiselled good looks, had both hands in pockets and was leaning back on his chair, putting some distance between him and the table. Must be Isumi-san, thought Hikaru while taking a deep breath.

"Hello, Isumi-san? I'm Shindo Hikaru," he bowed, "Reporter for the weekly go; may I ask you few questions?"

Isumi-san blinked twice before putting a welcoming smile on his full lips. "Sure, why not? Go ahead."

Thankful, Hikaru grabbed an empty seat to get settled. «What could you say about today game? Do you know the players well? Which one you think will be the winner?"

"Hm, Ogata-kisei and Touya play against each other quite often. They had both beneficiated of the late Touya tutelage, and while Ogata is more experienced, Touya has those streaks of genius that could put the best players in danger. Honestly, I don't know who will emerge victorious this time, but the game is promising."

Hikaru recorded the declaration on his smartphone.

"What are the stakes?"

"Aside the loss or the win of the title you mean? Maybe a shift in current hold on power. The professional world is small, and battles aren't fully played over the goban. There is a large part of psychological game before each tournament, and older players like to intimidate new challengers. After all, you can't fight properly when you're persuaded deep down that you'll lose, no matter what. But that's not how you could properly describe the relationship tying Touya and Ogata. They know each other for a long time, and I know they respect each other as well."

"Hey, you're Shindo?" Waya interjected. Hikaru nodded, slightly taken aback. "I'm Waya Yoshitaka, Akari's boyfriend! She told me you'll be there today! So, you'll write something in the Weekly Go? You have some notions about the game, she said, but some notions won't be sufficient for a title match. Come sit over there, I'd love to read something pertinent in a game review for once, so listen carefully and take good notes." Baffled, Hikaru turned toward Isumi, who smiled apologetically as he gestured encouragingly toward the table.

"We'll be glad to comment the game for you, Shindo-san. This is Ochi and Nase, fellow professionals."

"Thanks for your proposition, I won't be a hindrance."

"Deal then," answered Waya while facing the screens displaying the match room. Both opponents were settling themselves in front of each other, goban between them. «It'll begin soon."

o][o

Silence was dominating everything. In the muffled atmosphere, only the discrete pa-chi of stones set on the goban was perceptible. The battle was ferocious and without mercy. The two opponents had their gaze riveted on the Go board, and very few signs of nervousness were displayed. Still, Touya's shoulders line seemed tense, and Ogata kept pushing his unmoving glasses in place.

The tension was even perceptible in the room where the audience was attending. Hikaru had taken few pictures of the spectators, and was back sitting near Isumi and his friends. They were chatting quietly, yet excitingly about hands and strategies used by Touya and Ogata.

"I don't understand the purpose of this stone placed here. It looks like Touya wants to pull a trap, but it's far from his usual style, and lack elegance, no?"

"I'm not sure either, that's not quite like Touya… Maybe the purpose is somewhere else? The battle in this corner seems almost done anyway."

Hikaru was wondering as well. It had been years since he had last pushed himself so hard to read a game. He had trouble to maintain on the front of his mind a clear structure. Strategic lines and critic points blurred often, and he had to make conscious efforts to barely understand the fight.

Yet, he was able to see that the level displayed here was magnificent, with beauty hidden behind every move. The two men didn't share even one glance. They had their gaze riveted on the goban. The shapes made by the stones were being unfolded slowly, reflecting the clash of will of the two players. The moves were clever, and behind the clear difference between the black and the white, intent and objective were obscure. Outwitting the opponent was the key, and patience, along the capacity at reading the game in a large scale, were skills that could lead toward victory.

Hikaru hadn't had the occasion to see often such interesting games in the past. On the internet, a lot of different players could be played against, but very few hadn't lost their bearing against the ghost. Sai hadn't often been pushed to demonstrate his full maestria. Without opponent in flesh against him, Sai hadn't bored to play shidou go, and trashed ruthlessly anyone who dared to test their hand against him. Hikaru might had been completely disgusted with Go if the Heian ghost had been like that with him, but Sai had been a great teacher for him, accompanying his growth with subtle, yet strong tutelage.

Near the end, Hikaru had been able to throw everything he had against Sai, and had the satisfaction to feel that the ghost had to seriously push himself to remain victorious. Sai had taught him everything: analysing, strategies, reading, and slowly, the same thinking pathways had been forced upon his young, flexible mind. Playing against Sai had always been more like a dance, rather than a fight, where beauty resided upon intent and purpose was an inner battle where he tried to outwit himself. Sai had remained an unwavering victor, until their last game together. Hikaru had been still for a full minute, eyes glued on the goban like his own, disbelief coloured by a sense of accomplishment pervading his thoughts.

Sai had smiled then. Not his usual, silly smile, no. His lips had stretched into a sad, wistful line, and his gaze went to lose itself in a deep emptiness.

If Hikaru had known then, he would have done everything to keep Sai from disappearing. But this night, he had gone to bed like usual, feeling light and content. He remembered seeing, just before falling in slumber, Sai's silhouette turned toward the window, contemplating the night. Moon had bathed him in a silvery glow, washing out every colours, until he disappeared completely, like turned in starlight.

So many years since, and he had thought time had dulled the sadness.

But nothing was forgotten, nor healed.

Maybe it would be better to remain far from anything related to go. When he was in Australia, his teenage years had sometimes felt very distant. There were even times when he had doubted that the ghost had been indeed real, and wasn't a mere illusion created by his young and lonely self. The only physical proof of Sai's existence resided in hundreds of kifus stocked in boxes. Today, he couldn't deny the authenticity of the sharps feelings conjured by the situation. Facing them was like trying to pick up the cutting shards of his heart with bloodied fingers.

Face still, hands firmly set over his knees, he forced himself to come back to the reality. The game seemed to be nearly finished, and Hikaru had unfortunately tuned out every comment a while ago. It would be hard to make a proper review with pros insights only concerning the first part… Well, maybe Waya would be disappointed again about the quality of the paper. He wouldn't be the one to write it anyway. But Amano-san counted on him, and Hikaru wasn't too keen to disappoint the man on his first day. He shrugged mentally. Maybe he could wrap something pertinent later with the record.

o][o

Hikaru was seated at his desk, chin in his hand, while skipping leisurely in the hundreds or so pictures he had taken in the morning. There were few portraits of the protagonists, who appeared fairly lost and focused on the game. Hikaru couldn't help but feel a strange emotion while seeing all these people who had dedicated their entire life over a game. His own experience at Go had been limited to Sai and internet: he had never played outside his house and never met someone alive across a Goban.

These times seemed very far, deep in the haze of faded memories. He wasn't even sure if he could play again a good game, as he struggled to project mentally even the simplest strategy. Go seemed to have only left impressions on him, the feel of the stones gleaming on his palm, the sharp sound made by the shell hitting the hard kaya, and the world fading behind the matrix formed by the stones, like constellations drawn over the dark sky.

He would have to choose the perfect shot to illustrate Amano's paper. It was the first draft, and the reporter had made a fine job at transcribing the stakes of the match and the reactions it hadn't failed to make inside the pro world. Yet, Amano seemed totally outclassed with his detailed review of the game: he had put here and there what he and Hikaru had gathered about thoughts of various pros, but it obviously lacked the deep understanding and foreseeing needed to explain what had happened precisely.

Hikaru winced internally few times while reading the paper: it wasn't patently wrong, but it was clearly far away from the key points. Disregarding the document and putting it on a corner of his desk, the young man took the kifu and replayed mentally the game, trying to put himself in the shoes of the two opponents.

Hikaru was marvelled and a bit baffled by the pure skill displayed by the two opponents. Each one had shown a style that spoke of a long experience brought by countless battle against multiple opponents. While very personal, the two styles were showing a deep understanding of each other. There were few hands here and there destined to counter strategies before they were even played.

In front of such a beautiful game, Hikaru felt his throat constrict. He had forgotten how much a game of Go could be so full of meaning. Behind moves and intent, he almost could draw a rough characterization of each player. This one was prudent, patient and deceitful, and this one was more aggressive, putting continuous pressure on his opponent. Hikaru could see something almost intimate displayed across the board. It was a dance, a share of will intertwining in white and black. Each game was unique; each game was a legacy of two minds confronting each other to make something more, something almost spiritual.

Touya had won this time, therefore taking the title of kisei from Ogata. The battle had taken three major turns before finally entering yose. It has been a close call for Touya, but he had taken the upper hand with two clever moves, set fairly early in the game. Hikaru didn't remember any of the bystanders pointing this particular fact, but he couldn't see how to review the game without explaining these hands. Hikaru was pretty sure that Touya's strategy had been based on those. They were at a first glance -and even at a second- fairly common and expected, but they had been played over few other possibilities which have could be better in short term view. Yet, these ones have revealed themselves terribly effective in positioning Touya over Ogata during the end game. This kind of play spoke of true mastery, where a game was considered on the largest scale.

Tired and in a need of a walk, Hikaru rose on his feet and crossed the bullpen toward the corner next to the huge windows, where he could make himself some tea. Waiting for hot water, he threw a glance outside. Nightfall was near, heralded by dimming sunlight, and sharp shadows outlined buildings against the sky. Rusty leaves were dancing and falling in whirls, while passers-by walked in a brisk pace, hands in pockets and nose in scarf to preserve them of the cold. Hikaru had lost his tolerance for cold temperatures, and was glad to be inside.

Cold hands warming against his cup, the young reporter stepped quietly back toward his desk. He was wondering how he would fare against such marvellous players, and those thoughts reminded him how Sai would literally beam at the prospect of fighting a strong opponent. The young reporter could understand now the yearning for someone who could bring out everything of his opponent. Himself had lost all interest in Go at Sai's disappearance: it had been all too painful at first, and then, when the ache had dulled, he couldn't bring himself to play against some random player over the internet that would lack the magnificent play of the Go genius.

Reinvigorated by the hot drink, Hikaru began to throw random notes to explain the best he could how he understood the game.

o][o

Hours later, Hikaru raised his head, wincing when pain jolted through his stiff neck. Darkness enshrouded the office. Few lights were still on here and there, and typing sounds were easily discernible, indicating that few people were still at work. It would be soon the time when he had to return home, but the perspective wasn't that appealing. Akari had left sooner, offering him to spend some time with her and her friends, but he had declined, too caught up by his analysis to stop.

Now, he had finished to patch up something which seemed to be alright. He would submit it to Amano-san the next day.

Stretching, he felt the bones of his back satisfyingly popping in place. Now would be the right time to go out and drink, but that wasn't something he usually do all by himself. In need of distraction, he peered over his computer screen, and saw that Ueno Miki was still at her desk, her petite frame totally engulfed into the big office chair with her knees up directly under her chin. She seemed to be engrossed by something happening on her computer.

Curious, Hikaru stood up and casually strolled toward her, "Hey, Ueno-san. May I intrude a bit?

"Shindo-san! No one waiting for you back home? Sure, come over." She reached for his sleeve and tugged. "Look, I'm watching an internet game. One of the players is known to be the japan top amateur, and his adversary is sure faring well! How exciting!"

"You're often online like this?"

"Every day, I even have the application on my smartphone. The way of playing the game had deeply changed over the last two years or so, it's incredible how the internet contribute to spread Go all over the world. It's easier for players to found someone matching their skill and for amateurs to watch interesting games. And who knows what you could meet on internet, since Sai, things aren't the same."

Hikaru, mildly interested by the conversation until now, felt a rush of adrenalin when hearing the name.

"Sai? Who's that?"

"A legend, a myth, nobody knows," Miki let a mysterious smile stretch her lips. "A player, active for seven years, and who never lost a game, despite playing against some of the top professionals of many nations. No one knows who he is, and why he had disappeared this suddenly six years ago, but today, his kifus are almost religiously compiled, there are fan sites entirely dedicated to him." With the fervour easily detectable in her tone, Hikaru strongly suspected that Miki was a fan girl herself. He almost winced in embarrassment. "He's a model for many young players today, and Go has known a great renewal, partly because of him."

While aware at first of a kind of popularity of Sai when he logged on Netgo by the sheer number of requests immediately following his connexion, he had soon taken care of the problem in disabling the possibility of challenging him. The routine had soon consisted in searching of the players online with the best statistics and sending requests for a game. Those went never refused, and Hikaru knew now why. He had never been interested in the online community, because he hadn't felt he had the right to speak on the behalf of Sai. Each day, they were content to ritually playing two or three games on Internet, and then to play against each other's. Hikaru himself hadn't felt the need to confront him against other players, feeling intimately that Go was part of the special relationship he cultivated with Sai.

"I - I didn't know Go could arouse such strong feelings in people," Hikaru said, wondering if himself hadn't misunderstood a part of what constituted the game. Sai had obviously dedicated his life - and his after-life - on Go. It wasn't farfetched to think that other people could feel the same about it. And himself? Unease suddenly pervaded his mind, when a half formed thought emerged suddenly. Had he been betraying Sai's memory when he had stopped completely playing the game?

"Yeah, scary, isn't it? But when you think about it, it's this kind of passion which allows us to get paid each month. Thank god, life isn't all about serious and boring matters."

Hikaru nodded, kind of stunned.

Curious how life could slap you at any moment.

Miki continued, on a roll. "There are true experts of Sai's play - for a lack of anything else - out there on the internet. Some say he's even a machine, a well programmed software, but those who really count say the style is too human, with a real growth in both skill and style. His early games were very old-fashioned, like he wasn't aware of modern rules." Her face suddenly took a faraway look, almost melancholic.

"Anyway, myths like those are good for business. People love mysterious and exciting stories, but it's kind of sad that no one knows who Sai is - or was, and what happened to him."

He had no idea. Even the simple thought that Sai had affected so many lives was overwhelming. In his heart, a small, warm light lit up suddenly. Sai hadn't existed only for him, but for hundreds, maybe thousands, of people. Sai couldn't be resumed only by Go and his games, but it was a large part of what had shaped him. And Hikaru could see so many things defining Sai behind a game; a certain gleam brightening his purple eyes, half smiles hidden behind his fan when he was ridiculously proud of himself, slight bows of his head when he acknowledged a particularly good play from his opponent, and so many other mannerisms.

And yet, knowing that so many people had honoured his memory while he had failed spectacularly to do so, made him very disquieted. In a certain way, Sai had been his, belonging to an intimate universe, something impossible to share, even when they were playing in the living room where his totally oblivious mom was.

This evening, Hikaru came home late. In his shadowy, lonely apartment, sounds coming from the outside were muffled. For once, he didn't turn on the TV, needing to be alone with his thoughts. Sprawled in his chair and hands joined by the tips of his fingers, he spent a long time staring at the home page of Netgo.

The cursor blinked in the login box, regularly and unfailing, like the echo of a heartbeat.