Disclamer: I don't own Hikaru no Go, nor anything related to it. If I was the author, this will be how it ended, thus removing the necessity of writting this fic, and therefore, you wouldn't be reading this at all! XD

A/N Decided that my profile looked empty, and uploaded this story. The plot bunny was driving me insane XP. Anyway, I apologise beforehand for any errors that you find, english is not my mother language and something is bound to escape the revisions I did ^^

He always had that feeling, for as long as he could remember, the feeling that something really important was missing. It was a feeling of emptiness, that made him a really quite child, introverted. His parents thought he was autistic, even when the psychologist told them it wasn't the case. Maybe that's why, when he was only 3 years old, they sent him to the temple where his grandfather lived.

They told him to raise him, saying they couldn't do it. His grandfather took him in, and thus he started to live with the other priests.

He liked the temple. It made him feel a little less uncomfortable. He also felt more comfortable wearing traditional clothing than modern garbs. He always felt out of place in more modern surroundings. He wasn't the only one that thought that somehow, he didn't belong. He heard it once, the other priests muttering between themselves, saying that the child looked too otherworldly, like he just didn't fit. He felt uncomfortable in his own body even, he felt like it wasn't like it was supposed to be... there was something missing.

He was about to turn six years old when something happened that gave him a clue of how his body was supposed to be. A miko from another temple came to visit his grandfather. She had long, flowing hair that trailed behind her as she walked, the ends almost touching the floor. That night, when he was looking at his reflection in a mirror, he realized that one of the things that was wrong with how he looked was his hair. It was supposed to be longer.

He started growing out his hair that day, and refused to cut it, his ever lengthening locks of hair made him feel a little more like himself . When the kindergarten his grandfather made him attend started complaining about the length of his hair, his grandfather made something up about the traditional training for being a priest of his order and cited it as the reason why his hair just couldn't get cut. He also noticed how his grandson looked more happy and at ease with himself with longer hair, and he wasn't about to take that away from him. It was luck that his grandfather also had long hair.

By the time he started attending elementary school, his hair reached the middle of his back. It made him get confused with a girl many times while he was in the temple, but the uniform he had to wear clearly identified him as a boy, albeit a girly looking one for some. Even then, he wasn't bullied or teased for it all throughout his education, the feeling of not belonging that he gave off repelling all possible bullies, but it also drove away any possible friends.

When he turned twelve, he started looking at his side like something was missing from it. Sometimes, he asked a question, and, when he looked to his side, he noticed that no one was there to answer him. That gave him another clue of what was missing, there was supposed to be someone by his side... or maybe, he was supposed to be at someone's side. He tried to get friends, but somehow, they just didn't feel right, and eventually he stopped trying.

He was fifteen when he noticed himself staring at a girl, well, not at the girl herself but at the pink studs that adorned her newly pierced ears. They gave him a feeling that they were the wrong color, and made his ears feel empty.

The day he graduated from Junior High School he returned to the temple with his ears pierced and two bright red studs gleaming on the sunlight on each lobe, more happy than any of the occupants of the temple had ever seen him.

When he went home with a note from his high school inquiring about his earrings in a way that said he shouldn't be wearing them, his grandfather promptly pierced his ears and went to speak to the principal, saying that the earrings where proof that he passed a milestone in his training to succeed him on his post at the temple. The matter was settled and he was allowed to keep his earrings. His grandfather was at the receiving end of a huge hug and a tearful thank you for doing that for him. He loved his grandfather, he was always there for him, and it was not the first time he felt glad that his parents decided they couldn't raise him, even when it meant he only could see his younger siblings at holidays.

He was sixteen and a half when he finds an old paper fan while cleaning one of the storage rooms of the temple. It is of a light golden color, and open and closes smoothly, a testimony of excellent craftsmanship. His hand feels less empty after that, and he rarely puts it down ever since.

He was eighteen and just graduated from high school when an old lady that frequently came to the temple to pray came up the stairs that leaded to it, her grandson trailing behind her carrying a big cardboard box that looked quite heavy. She asked for his grandfather and he led her to the back of the temple, where the old, traditional house that served as a home to the priests stood.

It turned out that her husband, who was a good friend of his grandfather, has just passed away. His grandfather used to go down to his house to drink tea and generally hang out, as far as he was concerned. It turned out he also went to play with him, and it was his wish for him to have his old board. When the grandson pulled it out of the box, along with the two wooden bowls, he was rooted to the spot, staring at the board without blinking.

He didn't notice his grandfather and his guest living the room so they could talk more about the funeral at the temple itself. Several minutes passed before his body moved from where he was standing, kneeling besides the board and opening one of the wooden bowls, taking one of the white pieces within it between his center fingers. He didn't notice he was crying until he saw that the board was wet and wondered where the water was coming from. A large part of the something that was missing came back to him.

It would be several days before his grandfather managed to ply him away from the board, the Go board. He then proceeded to play against his grandfather, the other priests, and some people his grandfather brought over for him to play, winning all the games. He was good, really good, even tough at the beginning his hand played without the need of conscious thought. It seemed that his body and his subconscious remembered how to play, even when he didn't. After a time, the moves his hand made started to take form before his eyes, and not long after he was making strategies on his own, a deep understanding of the game unfolding itself inside his mind.

It took him three months to snap out of his Go playing frenzy enough so he could start helping around the temple again. He had forgone going to any university, despite the fact that he could have gone to a reasonable good one, with his grades. Instead he decided to stay at the temple. After all, he had been learning everything he needed to become a priest from his grandfather, who decided since his first little lie at kindergarten that there might as well be a measure of truth in them.

To pass the time he also decided to master the Four Accomplishments, being half way there, since calligraphy was drilled into him from a young age. And like with Go, playing the koto and the kagurabue came easily to him, like he always knew how to do it, but didn't remember it. Painting also came easily, even when he found himself incapable of doing it in a more modern way, painting in the traditional way went the same way than the other three accomplishments.

He feels more complete than he ever felt but, as his eyes stray to his side, there's still something missing, and that something is incredibly important.

He is 21 years old when his grandfather drops in his bedroom a magazine he thinks his Go obsessed grandson would appreciate, along with a wad of money, while he is taking his morning shower. Maybe it will motivate him to go out of the temple for once, he thinks, as his eyes settle in the cover of the magazine, which announces a Go convention in Tokyo, that was programmed to start that day, and proudly says that an 8-dan by the name of Touya Akira (whose face is on the cover) would have an exhibition game at one in the afternoon, against another 7-dan named Shindou Hikaru.

When he gets to his room, clothed and ready for a day of work at the temple, his eyes zero on the second name on the cover, and before he blinks, he is ripping the magazine open to the page where the rest of the information about the event is, along with a photo of one Shindou Hikaru.

It's five in the morning when his grandfather and the other priests are witnesses to the sight of the usually calm and composed grandson of the head priest running past them and leaping down the many stairs of the temple, a magazine on one hand and a bunch of bills hastily crammed into a wallet, half of them peaking out, on the other. If he hurries he can catch the 6:30 shinkansen that leaves for Tokio from the Kyoto station. He has six hours to get to the convention.

His grandfather only watches, smiles and returns to sweeping the leaves.

It's 12:30 when he finds himself standing before the doors of the convention center, after getting so lost many times it took him 2 hours just to get there from the Tokyo station. He decides to go in and find a bathroom to straighten himself, his almost floor length hair is a mess from all the running he did, as is his white ikan sokutai and purple hakama, which are in complete disarray. He is eternally glad that he was wearing zori instead of the more traditional asagutsu (which he had intended to put on before his mind had pin pointed the 18 year old 7-dan as someone he had to see at all costs and proceeded to drag him to Tokyo before he could protest), otherwise, his feet would be killing him as well. He was also glad he didn't have time to put on his eboshi, otherwise he would look a tad more ridiculous than he already did, in the middle of a modern Tokyo wearing priest clothes.

By the time he comes out of the bathroom the match had already started and he settles in the back to watch the game that was being projected in a big screen behind the players. And all through the match, a feeling of pride keeps growing and growing, until it bursts when Hikaru wins the game, and the explosion carries back memories of a previous life, of the time he spent with Hikaru, of teaching him, watching him grow, starting to fade and not wanting to leave the boy he came to love with all his heart.

It takes all the strength of his will not to run to Hikaru and hug him, instead he makes his way to the front doors, where Hikaru will surely head eventually.

The first thing he hears is his voice coming closer, and he can't hold in the tears that escape from his eyes, and instead he settles with covering half of his face with his trusted fan.

Hikaru turns around the corner and whatever he was saying gets stuck in his throat as he stares at the figure that stands by the doors.

"Hikaru, hey Hikaru, are you alright? You stopped mid-sentence!" _Touya, the boy that was walking with Hikaru asks his friend, who seems rooted to the spot and completely stunned, he turns to examine the man that is object to his friend's stare_ "Do you know him? Hikaru?"

"S...Sa...Sai?"_ Hikaru finally manages to push out what had being strangled in his throat, his voice disbelieving, yet hopeful.

By this time he had managed to recover some semblance of composure, more befitting of someone who had the upbringing he had, in both lives. He still finds it funny that somehow, Kami so it fitting to reincarnate him to a family whose last name is Fujiwara, and that they decided to name him Sai as well.

"Hikaru, you have grown."_ He says, not only referring to his physical growth, while closing his fan with a flick of his wrist.

Seconds later he finds himself with an armful of sobbing Hikaru.

"Sai! I missed you! Why did you have to leave? I begged Kami to give you back, but you didn't come back, and I couldn't find you!"

"I missed you too Hikaru"_ he said, hugging Hikaru tightly against him _ "It seems that Kamisama has answered your prayers, I'm back after all."_ he says against the bi-colored hair.

"But how? I mean, you're here! Really here!"

"I find that it is better to not question it, and just be grateful."

"I'm sorry, but can someone tell me what's going on?"_ comes Touya's voice from behind Hikaru, who raises his head a little startled, he had completely forgotten about his friend's presence.

When the grandfather receives a call from his grandson asking if his things could be delivered to Tokyo, he smiles and asks if he found what he was looking for. When he receives a positive answer, he only asks for the address where he should send his things.

He always knew that his grandson was destined for something, and he was eternally grateful that he finally found it.

A/N: Thank you very much for reading! Please review and tell me what you think, it would make me really happy ^^