I'm not writing the main body of the story until much later in the story. The problem lies in the ending of Hikaru no Go and there any many things that I wish to resolve about it. It's crucial for the plot. There are few references to DeathNote. So you can blantantly ignore this story until I'm finished with the lengthy somewhat prologue. It spans a couple of chapters. I don't believe that you would want to read that. Yes, I have changed the title and I'm currently rewriting over my first chapter. Please feel free to excercise your right to thwack me.

Warnings: This is a continuation of the Hikaru no Go manga series, taking place immediately after the Hokuto Cup tournament. There may be spoilers with the exception of DeathNote.

Disclaimer: Hotta Yumi is the brilliant mind behind Hikaru no Go and Ohba Tsugumi is the other brilliant mind behind DeathNote. Ogata Takeshi was the mastermind behind the orchestra of artists that slave all day long so that they can draw amazingly beautiful pictures for average pay for both of the series. I have no shame that I took the title from Sun Tzu's masterpiece The Art of War.

The Art of War
a Hikaru no Go x DeathNote crossover

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Kiyoharu Yashiro sighed and ruffled his bleached white hair. He stared down at the rolled-up certificate in his other hand and groaned. Sure he loved playing Go and he definately preferred attending the Kanasai Go institute over high school. But there was one thing that he was absolutely disgusted with that was related to Go. White light flashed before his eyes and cringing, he wondered if he was going to be blind from all the camera flashing. Considering his loss in China versus Japan, publicity was the last thing he needed. A string of praise in some sappy speech and a 'typed' piece of paper that acknowledged his efforts? There was no way that he could be accepted by his family as a Go player with that. If he knew them better, they had probably ignored the TV for a few days.

He tilted his head and leaned over to the other Go player at his side. "Do they really have to do this sort of thing?" It wasn't necessary to ask him that question but there wasn't much to do after the awards ceremony. He couldn't leave right now. Besides, it looked like Touya had a better understanding on these type of situations. Talking would keep him busy but after a few seconds, Yashiro noticed that he still hadn't recieved an answer to his question.

"Oi? Touya-" he started again but to his horror, he found the infamous Go prodigy surrounded by a pack of news reporters. All of them were congratulating him on his two straight wins and asking him the most original question, again: Do you owe your success to your father? For a moment, he wondered if he had ever gotten tired of that. But the way Touya Akira had handled the reporters in such a professional manner completely eradicated the question. The Kansai Go player rolled his eyes.

Touya is the more experienced one in terms of Go and publicity, after all.

He shook his head and looking around, he noticed a half a dozen of eyes that fell upon him. There were microphones- ready and prepared- in their hands along with a few cameras and a couple of steno pads. As he noted, they belonged to the weaker ones of the pack; they failed to squeeze into the circle that was revolving around Touya Akira. Yashiro noticed the akward silence.

A pang of jealousy and anger struck him. Even so... he was still nowhere near the likes of Touya Akira. He still had a long way to go before he could prove himself before the entire world of Go. He felt his heart grow heavy.

"Kiyoharu-san?" Startled, he found a microphone clumsily shoved into his face. He watched the man hesitantly stare into his face, tilt his glasses before finally taking a deep breath and- "Argh!" And quickly, Yashiro pushed the mic over to the side and squeeze through the crowd but not before instinctively lowering his head in a somewhat apologetic bow.

On the other hand, he wasn't that desperate for attention. That reporter practically had pity for him. Yashiro shivered at the thought.

Shindou probably didn't fare any better than him right now.

If there was a rabid mob for Touya Akira, Shindou Hikaru would have one, too. An angry rabid mob at that. With his two succussive losses, he was sure that there were plenty of people who were ready to attack the said boy for reasons such as the loss of national pride. He huffed. National pride. As if those geezers were qualified to play the game and do better, themselves.

He raised a brow. Come to think of it, how was Shindou Hikaru doing?

Yashiro sweatdropped.

He looked around. Instead of heading towards the exit, he turned around, going deeper and deeper through the pack of people- who had filled up the entire hotel lobby.

It was a lot more difficult getting through a crowd than he expected. Even at his height, crowds of people were an obstruction.

Seeing that there was no choice, he whipped out his rolled up certificate. Kurata would scold him. Touya Akira would call it impolite and downright rude. And the people at the Kansai Go Institute... It wasn't as if the paper was of any use and he doubted that he could do any serious harm to the 'honorary' certificate. He waved it around and people glady moved out of his way.

It shouldn't be so hard to find him seeing that he was still taller than the boy. And with his bleached hair, he should be an easy target. But after five minutes of searching, Kiyoharu Yashiro gave up. He decided that Shindou Hikaru wouldn't be that badly off. He retreated back to the elevator, deciding to retrieve his luggage in the meanwhile. The crowds wouldn't be as crowded he estimated.

He hadn't brought very many things to his hotel room so the packing was simple. It had only taken a few minutes and he didn't even have to bother closing the door with the hotel maid coming in. When he reached back downstairs, the only thing he had to worry about was Kurata-san. He might feel the need for them to hang around longer in an attempt to upstage An Tenson. If they stayed any longer, the ride back home was going to feel a lot longer than necessary.

Yashiro headed to the front desk, deposing his room key at the counter.

The woman pressed a finger against her mouth as she glanced at the computer screen. "You're checking out, too? It's a shame that Team Japan is already leaving so soon, " she answered, flashing her pretty smile.

"Checking out too?"

"Didn't you see your friend?"

"Friend?" He questioned, arching a brow.

"The one who has bleached hair?" Yashiro sensed a pair of eyes resting upon his head.

She realized her mistake and bowed her head. "Sorry about that. Anyways, we welcome your stay." She ended, forcing a light tone to her voice.

It had to have been Shindou she was referring to.

He was a bit irritated at the moment. Here he was searching for him and wasting precious time when he had already gotten up and left?

Yashiro had to admit. He had only knew the boy for a couple of days and he couldn't say that they hit it off right away as friends. Shindou Hikaru was the one who had beaten him during the preliminaries for the Hokuto Cup tournament. If it hadn't been for the mushroom head by the name of Ochi, he may have never seen his face again and played side-by-side with him for that fact. And the boy could be empty-headed at times. He had a map in front of him but he still got themselves lost on the way to Touya's. It seriously had Yashiro reconsidering the skills of his former opponent.

And Shindou Hikary could be weird, too. Obsessing over his game with Ko Yongha? When he asked him about Hon Suyon, Shindou just talked about fighting in the honor of Shuusaku and then, he went to sleep. A Shuusaku freak. And a calligraphy expert according to their team manager, Kurata-san.

Not to mention, Shindou could be equally brillant and it fustrated him at times. The boy had started playing three years after him and he could could play so well without a master. His seemingly ordinary moves would transform in a game-turning move on the goban. Just by glancing at the black and white pattern on the pattern, Yashiro could sense the winding path that laid behind him that foretold of a glorious future.

And yet... Shindou wasn't just one of those guys that made him hate their guts.

When his mind wasn't turned off, he did listen and during the whole way on the train, he listened patiently whilehe had -for some unknown reason- started talking about his family. How they wanted him to stop going to the Institute and stay in school. How they had wanted him to be a pharmacist and forget about Go player. He knew of some close friends. They were sympathetic but they were always too nervous to even react. But the boy listened all the way and Yashiro couldn't believe how positive and calm he could be.

But on the night before, Shindou had surprised him again. It was obvious that the match was making him nervous and yet, he could still stand upright and keep babbling so confidently.

He was so weird.

He was so different.

And he could be so damn brilliant.

... So was that why he turned back to look for him back there?

Yashiro thought about it for awhile and decided to focus on the route back home. There was no need to worry over him. He knew how to take care of himself. Even though he wasn't there to exchange a goodbye, that was alright. Hewas sure that he was going to get Shindou for that when next year rolled around. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his map.

And it was a good thing, too.

There was no way Shindou Hikaru could get him lost, now.

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(to be continued...)