To Hikaru's surprise, Mitani and Akari got along quite well. The red head was exceedingly quiet, and made a unique dynamic between him and TsuiTsui. As he pulled his number five jersey over his head on the way to another soccer game, he mulled over the surprising luck of Haze's Go club. Not only did they have him, but also TsuiTsui, who could be good when he wanted (and wasn't a nervous wreck), and now Mitani, who also played well—regardless of his thievery or not. Not that Hikaru couldn't understand, being a (former) delinquent himself.
"What did you ever get on your record, anyway?" Yuuki asked as he leaned against the door of the science room, while Hikaru handed him his money.
Hikaru gave him an elusive smile. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Hikaru's got a record?" TsuiTsui gaped, looking at the blonde with something akin to horror.
He rolled his eyes. "You make it out to be way worse than it really is."
Akari, the only one in the room who did happen to know, said nothing, swinging her legs atop the high seat of the science room's lab stools.
He remembered those days almost wistfully. How long had it been since he stole something? Or been out with his friends being a delinquent? Granted, he had been steering clear of those friends ever since he'd gotten serious about soccer, and also, got serious about getting some very needed cash.
But on the bright side, at least if he kept up his grades and his good habits, he could get a computer! Hikaru rubbed his hands in excitement as he made his way to the field. Only the incentive of the internet could ever inspire him so greatly. Or maybe, it had nothing to do with the internet at all. Perhaps it was simply the idea of getting to play Go all the time, more so than the hour or two he played Shidou go with Akari and, sometimes even, TsuiTsui. Shidou Go just didn't compare to the intense feeling he had when he played Touya, an undecipherable coil in his stomach that pulled, made his heart thrum faster and his eyes get lost in the swirl of black and white.
There was just something about go…
Hikaru shook his head.
Why was he thinking about that now?! He had a game in an hour or two, and he needed to be completely in the zone. Shinra High was uncommonly good, and he was a bit worried. Not only was he competing for the spot of striker with Tachibana, a third year, but also Tsukasa, the original striker who had injured his leg last season. While Hikaru hadn't been there to see him play, the way the other teammates spoke of him with such reverence made Hikaru worry. Hikaru shook his head; he had nothing to worry about. He'd never heard of Tsukasa, and the elite club level soccer it was very rare not to hear of someone's name if they were very good. He'd never played him before on a travel team, or an international tournament, so he couldn't be that good. Then again, Haze's varsity team was surprising him; they were all very good for such a lackluster school. He guessed not everyone had the money, time or capacity to get onto a club team, though.
"Shindou!" Taro called, from where he had haphazardly dropped his duffel bag on the bench.
He waved in return, jogging lightly to level with the older boy before dropping his bag as well. "Warm up started yet?"
Taro shook his head. "Nah, but everyone's here mostly, I figure Tachibana'll—
"Alright everyone! Five laps!"
An accumulation of groans from the younger players echoed, but Hikaru did so obligingly. He was too nervous as it was, and he needed to stretch his legs out.
He examined his wrists as he ran, wrapped in tape from where to bone jutted out to spiral onto his thumb and index finger. Last game against Kaio he had jammed his finger when the defensemen he was trying to pass hacked him, and the two of them went tumbling into the mud. Not only did it take him a lengthy amount of time to get the dirt out of his ear, his finger was jammed and he didn't get the new angle for his instep drive he wanted to try.
To his surprise, none of that mattered as much as his relief that he could still play Go did. His dominant hand was perfectly fine.
"See that guy right there?" Taro elbowed him lightly, nudging with his head.
Near the coach, a third-year with tousled dark hair was grinning ear to ear. He looked like the kind of boy that had a bunch of fan girls following him everywhere he went—Hikaru narrowed his eyes at the stands. Yep. There they were.
"That's Tsukasa."
Hikaru only shrugged. Regardless of who was the team's striker, he was still a starting forward, and that was all that mattered to him.
/
The airplane ride to Japan was downright abysmal.
Not only was Hon Suyon bad company, but he usually required a perpetual sustenance of food to keep his thoughts at bay, and not indulging him would usually end up with a sick and moody Suyon, so Yongha obliged.
They hadn't been friends for very long—and Yongha was even a bit touchy with calling him that—but the other boy was good. At least, he was good for an insei. Yongha, already a shodan, didn't feel he needed to worry about Suyon ever passing him. Regardless of how good the boy was at the moment, he would never get any better with that stuck up attitude. Not that Yongha's disrespectful one was any better.
Their chaperone, a young nervous man who spoke both Korean and Japanese, ushered them out of the airport. Yongha took out his sunglasses and put them on, enjoying the deeply tinted world more so than the sunlit one. Behind him, a couple teenage girls began to giggle and whisper quickly in Japanese. The action didn't go unnoticed by Suyon, who, miffed, crossed his arms and pouted.
"What's so cool about Yongha, anyway?" He asked, eyes closed, more to himself than to the auburn-haired fourteen year old next to him.
Yongha only split a smile at Suyon's ridiculously immature actions, sliding into the taxi easily.
"Sensei," He called to the man in the front, who was saying something to the driver. "Where is this convention?"
The man blinked a bit when he addressed him—Yongha grudgingly using the suffix, and only because he had already forgotten the man's name—and answered, with a flustered look, "Not too far, Yongha-san. The hotel is located near the…"
The two Korean players had travelled this far for a convention with the Meijin, in which young pros from around the world gathered to listen to the man and learn a part of his wisdom. Yongha didn't care much for it, sure the Meijin was an excellent player, he certainly wasn't going to contradict that, but he didn't believe he could improve his Go by watching the guy talk. Playing him, however, was a different story entirely.
"I'm excited." Suyon whispered from beside him, and Yongha wanted to roll his eyes. Typical.
"For what?" He asked lazily. No matter how good his Go was, he was still a rude, arrogant, fourteen-year old boy. "He's just a guy."
Suyon sputtered. "He's the Meijin," He whispered with reverence. "The greatest go player alive."
Yongha frowned.
He didn't want to believe that. Surely, there was another. What a sad existence it must be, to be at the top without any rival to encourage you to do better, defending your crown from useless weaker players. Perhaps it angered him so due to its close relation to his own situation. Who was his rival? He looked at his hands, gathered in his lap. Certainly not Suyon. In a few years, maybe. But certainly not now. Who was good enough? There were many higher dans who were better than him, but not that he could consider his rival.
"—is good too, I hear." Suyon was saying. "He's not a pro yet, though. But I don't think he's in the program to be one, either."
"Hmm?" He hummed, not really listening to the younger boy. "Who?"
"Touya Akira!" Suyon cried.
Yongha turned around a bit to face him, instead of appeasing himself by watching the passing scenery from the window. "Who's that?"
"The Meijin's son!"
"Obviously." He rolled his eyes. They had the same surname. "What about him?"
"He's rumored to be a go genius." Suyon blinked, before the words sunk in. "Just like you!"
Yongha shrugged. "How old is he?"
Suyon frowned in thought. "Around my age, I guess. Maybe even younger. I don't really know about him because he isn't a pro yet, or even an insei."
Yongha lost a bit of interest.
"But he's still really good!"
Didn't matter what Suyon said, Ko Yongha sighed, the boy wasn't meant to be his rival.
The car pulled up to the sleek looking building that spiraled into the sky with a dizzying height. Yongha didn't pay it much mind, unlike Suyon, who gaped audibly and near dropped his suitcase. There were many buildings like this in Korea, and the auburn-haired boy didn't get what the big deal was. The lobby was crowded with other Go players, many dressed in ironed suits and fancy button downs. Yongha looked down at his jeans and long sleeve. And then looked around at the crowd that seemed to maintain a quota of thirty-five and up. The only one younger than him here was Suyon, who was bouncing excitedly. But Suyon didn't count.
Sensei squeezed past the crowded lobby to the reception desk, checking them in with a bit of an anxious grin, as Yongha leaned against one of the pillars with a sigh. The chandelier above them was placed in the center of the room, crystals sparkling in the sunlight from the window conveniently in front of it. Beside him, Suyon entertained himself by scanning the crowd, rolling on his heels. For once, he wasn't wearing his usual stuck-up looking face.
Sensei called them over and they rode the elevator with a couple other people before getting to their floor. Sensei had his own room, while Yongha and Suyon were sharing.
Once the red haired boy got to his room, he threw his bags onto the bed and stormed out.
Suyon, who had been checking out the channels on the TV, blinked in surprise. He ran to the threshold, watching Yongha's disappearing form. "Where are you going?!"
"Out." He waved behind his shoulder.
Suyon blinked. "B-But the convention—
"Isn't for an hour or two." The newly minted Korean pro rolled his eyes. "I'll be back before then."
Suyon, unsure of what to say—not that he could say much, once Yongha wanted to do something it was incredibly hard to persuade him out of it—to the mulish shodan, and instead, closed the door with a sigh.
Yongha could do whatever he wanted, the younger boy supposed, because no one was there to stop him.
There never really had been one, anyway.
Japan seemed to be distinctly like Korea, suffering in the unwavering heat that was near poetic injustice. The streets were particularly crowded, and Yongha found himself taking a few short cuts and ending up in the suburban zoning of the city. He didn't know how long he had walked, but he didn't really feel up to going to that stupid convention anyway. All it was going to be was a great player showing off a couple plays, and then being asked a heap load of questions. Inevitably, he would have fallen asleep by the end of it. So why not do something a little more productive, like some sight seeing?
Not that there was much sight seeing to do. Japan's outstanding similarities to Korea hardly made the experience fun, and Yongha ended up getting lost in his thoughts as he meandered about.
What was the point in playing go, when there was nothing to strive for? Sure, he wanted to be the best, he wanted to play the divine move—what go player didn't? But what of after that? He was obviously going to become an exceptional higher dan, maybe even win a few titles. But what was he doing to do after that? Sit around like Touya Meijin and host extravagantly boring conventions in which no one challenged him? What kind of existence was that?
A couple girls wearing a uniform passed him, and he could pick up a few of the things they had said. He had taken a Japanese class ever since grade school, so his Japanese wasn't too bad. Not as good as his English, but passable. He usually didn't care enough to bother to tell people that, though. And it certainly was amusing when even the translators got it wrong.
/
He came across a schoolyard, where a conglomerate of people had gathered near a field.
He stood by the sidelines, off to the side and away from the screaming fans. It was football, obviously. Even though he'd never bothered with sports he could tell the game when he saw it (probably because Suyon was so obsessed with it) and it seemed to be neck and neck. Yongha scowled. Alright. If he was being honest, he'd certainly played his fair share of Fifa games. What teenage boy hadn't, though?
One of the players with the black and white jersey had attempted a goal, but the goalie had stopped it and punted it to the midway point, one of his midfielders dribbling it and passing it to an offender who scored.
Yongha sighed.
Sports. So boring.
Or maybe that was an unfair statement, they weren't boring, but they hardly required any thinking. Usually, someone did the thinking for you and then you went out and did the play the came up with. And also, sports were typically unfair. One person was always going to have an advantage simply because of hereditary factors; depending on who their parents were they might simply have been born with higher stamina than someone else. That's just the way the world worked. Perhaps it was the same as in Go. Would that Touya Akira be as good as Suyon said if it wasn't for the fact his father was the best in the world?
Probably, Yongha smirked. Go was about talent.
The black and white team called a time out, and the players huddled into a circle on both teams.
When they came back out, a young boy about a head shorter than him with bleached blonde hair came out onto the field. Yongha settled himself onto a tree, deciding he had nothing better to do than watch.
/
"You sure you'll be okay out there, Shindou?" Coach asked, eying the bandages on his wrist and now the matching ones on his ankles.
He had gotten injured by a slide tackle in the first half…but not after another banana kick from the corner arc over the goalie. How Hikaru had ever gotten past that built central defender was beyond him. It was quickly becoming Hikaru's signature. Not for the first time, the Coach thanked whatever God had smiled upon him and brought Hikaru to Haze. He had heard of Hikaru before—he was on one of Japan's few youth international teams, and was a common name thrown around with other coaches.
The two toned boy smiled, as he took another sip of Gatorade. "Yeah." He nodded. "I can do this, coach."
Regardless of whether he could or not, he'd have to. They were down by one and Tachibana wasn't doing so hot. He got like that when he became frustrated with himself. And Tsukasa was currently playing midfield, to help ease his transition back into the game. And quite frankly, the dark haired boy didn't seem all too happy with the amount of running he was being put through.
The man gave him an encouraging pat on the back, before shoving him onto the field.
/
The black and white goalie cleared the ball up the field, past the centerline and one of the midfielders trapped it before it could roll past him. The boy was fast, dark hair flying as he past it to the strange boy with blonde and black hair.
Currently, Yongha was lost about what the crowd's fascination with the young boy was, and was debating whether he should leave and go to that convention or wait it out and bide some more time.
In the end, he watched the match a little longer, as the boy placed a well-aimed kick to the corner that the goalie somehow managed to block with the tips of his fingers. The crowd roared in anguish, and the boy himself didn't look all too happy. The ball changed sides and the attacker from the white and blue team had a man to man with the central defender of the school he'd come to know as Haze, who luckily stole the ball and drove up field.
The crowd roared again, and Yongha was just about to wonder what was so special about this little boy when he saw it himself.
He passed by the defensive pressure, catching the ball after it deflected from one of the opposition's shoulders.
As he neared the central defender, a flurry of quick foot work had the larger boy stunned as the ball passed through between his feet, the younger blonde diving past him and driving towards the goal. He ended up being cut off by one of the other defenders who had caught up to him.
Yongha checked the time for the game. Less than a minute. Haze would probably lose.
The boy with dark black hair scuffled with the defender from the other team, eventually passing it to the blonde boy who was still on the ground.
Instead of the ball turning over, like he had originally suspected would happen, the blonde boy flipped backwards in front of the goal, the ball getting caught on his shin and slamming into the netting behind the stunned goalie.
The crowd roared at the bicycle kick.
The game ended a few seconds after that, and Yongha decided he wouldn't stick around, and might as well go to the convention. At least then, he would be in his element.
"Hikaru-kun, leaving so soon?" Akari frowned as she neared the team, as the coach ended his closing remarks.
The blonde, who had doused himself in water and was currently shaking out the wetness from his hair gave her a sunny smile. "Yeah, I'm probably going to head home."
He didn't feel it was imperative to say he was doing so because he had a book of Shuusaku kifu his grandfather had given him before the game, and that he was desperate to study it and would be mortified beyond belief if any of his teammates found it in his bag.
"Eh?" Akari blinked. "Why not stay a little longer? Your parents are here anyway…"
"Nah," Hikaru shook his head, already taking off in the other direction without even taking off his cleats. "I'll see you tomorrow!"
In his hurry, he hadn't noticed that he'd dropped the kifu he had tried so hard to keep inconspicuously when he jabbed his overstuffed duffel bag to get his water out of it. Lucky for him, Akari hadn't noticed, already retreating back into the field where proud parents had flooded the winning team, Hikaru dashing off to the shaded corner of the field where hopefully less people would spy him walking off and call him to come back.
"Oi, you dropped this."
Hikaru paled considerably.
He checked his bag, and realized with some amount of horror that the kifu wasn't in there anymore. His breath hitched, and he turned around, struggling to come up with some sort of excuse, wondering which of his teammates had saw—if it was Ryuu, he'd never hear the end of it—a lie already on his tongue.
"I—It's not mine," He began as he turned around guiltily. "It's—
He blinked.
In front of him, a boy around his age (or perhaps, a bit older) leaned back as he studied the book with an intense eye, no amount of scorn on his face. Hikaru had never seen him before, and he was sure he'd notice long, wine colored hair like that. The other boy was wearing a nondescript black button down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, covering the top of his dark jeans. He looked pretty normal.
So why wasn't he laughing yet?
"Shuusaku?" The older boy murmured. "Impressive. Do you study go?"
"What's it matter to you?" Hikaru glowered, defensively, wondering where this was going.
The other boy shrugged. "It doesn't." He gave the blonde a once over. He still had his cleats on, and dirtied socks. But he had taken off his shin guards and had changed out of his jersey and into a dark green shirt with Japanese lettering on it.
Yongha immediately thought of the convention, which was probably going to begin at any moment.
And then he was reminded how much he didn't want to go.
"Play a game with me."
Hikaru didn't seem to have heard him at first, folding his arms and beginning to say something, before he stopped. "Wait—what?"
"A game." He motioned to the game recreated on the pages.
"Huh?" Hikaru's eyes widened. "Go?"
"What else?" He rolled his eyes. Honestly, he never thought he'd meet someone more thickheaded than Suyon. "A match."
"Why now?" He asked cautiously, unsure of where this was going.
Yongha shrugged. "Why any time?"
Hikaru looked at the other boy cautiously. What an enigma. What was he doing at his soccer game, anyway? People don't randomly show up and ask for Go games. Especially not people his age.
"But where?"
Again, the red head shrugged. "Anywhere. Who cares?"
Hikaru groaned in frustration. Who did this guy think he was? "You can't just—
"I passed a Go salon on my way here." Yongha mused, tugging the blonde with him.
"Eh?!" Hikaru struggled against his grip, but the other boy had his bad wrist, and the more the struggled the more it hurt. "Wait a minute—
Dammit, he couldn't be seen playing Go!
In the end, no matter what arguments Hikaru tried to put up, the other boy had a vague devil-may-care answer to retort with, and Hikaru played along and followed the boy without complaint. As they weaved through the densely crowded streets, he learned that his Go kidnapper's name was Ko Yongha, and he had come to Japan for a go convention that he had obviously skipped to end up watching his soccer game, which lead to him being intrigued as to why a star soccer player would be carrying around Shuusaku's kifu, which lead to Hikaru staring impassively at the large sign that signaled the Meijin's Go Salon. Who would be in there?
"This is the Meijin's salon." He read aloud, knowing that Yongha probably couldn't read Japanese as well as he could speak it.
He shrugged. "So?"
Yongha caught sight of Hikaru's contrary expression, and decided the boy might have some sort of fear for the scary Meijin. He wanted to laugh, but he was reminded that the Meijin was pretty scary looking.
"He's not here." And with a passing look to Hikaru's lost face, he added. "The Meijin."
"He isn't?"
Yongha shook his head. "He's teaching at the convention I was supposed to go to."
Hikaru chuckled. "Why didn't you go?"
"It's boring." Yongha closed his eyes with an irritated look, stuffing his hands into his pockets as his eyes turned skyward. He was again haunted with the question of why he was here, in this life, playing Go with no one to satisfy his quench with.
Hikaru laughed. He was liking this guy already, even though he had dragged him halfway across town to play a game of Go.
And Hikaru would be lying to himself if he said that he didn't want to play. There was this itching sort of feeling within him, a flutter of his heart at the thought of a heart-racing game. And he stopped himself suddenly. When had this yearning for Go erupted inside of him? He'd never felt this way about anything, maybe not even soccer, and soccer was his life.
Ichikawa poured Kitajima-san another cup of tea with a delighted smile on her face, brushing orange hair behind her ear. Akira-kun and Meijin-san were both at the convention, but the go parlor still bustled with activity.
She heard the chime of the door sliding open, "I'll be right there!" She called, dancing around the tables with the teapot. She sat it down next to the water coolers in the corner, before rushing to the counter with a bright smile. "Welcome to the Meijin's Go Salon, how can I help you—
She gaped.
There was Shindou, the bane of Akira-kun's existence for the past couple months, the reason why he didn't take the pro exam this year and was dawdling around in school tournaments, bouncing on his toes, blonde hair tousled and his entire body scuffed with dirt. He smiled at her, leaning back on his cleats, a smudge of dirt on his cheek and covering his legs.
The boy next to him looked a bit more composed, hands stuffed into his pockets and giving her an insufferable look that made her want to flinch back.
"Hi Ichikawa-san!" Hikaru greeted, penning his name down. "Rank…rank….I'm not very sure."
Ichikawa hummed in thought. "Well, you did beat Akira-kun," Next to him, the redheaded boy stiffened and looked surprised. She added with a bit of ire in her eyes, "Twice. So I'd say…1d?"
"Alright." Shindou nodded, handing the pen to Yongha.
The other boy sent him a deadpan. "I can't write in Japanese." He said, as if it was obvious.
Hikaru laughed sheepishly. "Oh yeah. Woops." He penned down the other boy's name. "Rank?" He looked expectantly to the other boy.
"Shodan." The boy replied. Before pausing. "So 1p."
The girl at the counter looked at him in a new light, as if she hadn't thought he was a professional.
She turned back to Hikaru. "500 yen, please!"
"Wha—?!" Hikaru groaned, patting his pockets. "Man, I forgot about that!"
"No Akira-kun to let you in free!" Ichikawa chirped, with a sadistic grin on her face as she held out her hand.
Instead, Shindou's handsome friend gave her the money. For both of them.
Hikaru blinked at him, the same time Ichikawa did.
He shrugged. "I did drag you here, after all."
"Point taken!" Hikaru nodded, bustling past the other customers who watched him with a curious gaze. He led Yongha to the back near the plants with the strange blue lighting, where he and Akira had played for the first time. It was usually more secluded back here, and he didn't want those nosey old people getting into his business as usual. He sat down with a smile, his mood increasing by the moment. Not only were the Meijin and his son out and definitely not coming back for a while, but he was also getting a free game of Go. With a pro, no less. Who would have known!
Yongha eyed him, as if taking him in once again. "You beat Touya Akira?"
Hikaru looked up, as he grabbed a handful of white stones. "Yeah, but people make it out to be a lot more than it is. Nigiri?"
Yongha nodded, placing two stones in his hand.
Either Hikaru was stronger then he let on, or Touya was weaker then Suyon seemed to think.
"Alright, I'm black." Hikaru nodded, with a bit of a pleasant smile.
Yongha leaned back, and waited for his first move.
He didn't hold his stones like a person who played Go. In fact, he barely even held it between his fingers correctly, and he seemed to be impressed by the way the Korean pro held his stones. Perhaps, that was simply because Hikaru was easily impressed. The longer they played, the more Yongha noticed that Hikaru's Joseki was a bit outdated. As if it had been taken straight from a Shuusaku book, and only recently had the play begun to change to adapt to modern times and styles. For example, his liberal use of the Shuusaku diagonal.
But, Yongha mused, he certainly wasn't bad. Actually, he's meeting my offensive with solid moves.
The auburn-haired boy watched him carefully, noting the strange look that had overcome Hikaru. As if he had no idea what he was doing, yet held his own anyway.
I'll have to watch this kid, thought the Korean pro, he's definitely worth watching.
As the flow of the game went on, Hikaru felt himself pulled in to the warping images of the game. He remembered their shine so clearly, even though he hardly saw such cleaned stones since the Go Club used slightly broken ones. There was something mesmerizing about the slow swirl of black and white, creating patters across the goban the way stars lit up the universe.
"My ultimate wish is to play go"
/pa-chi/
/pa-chi/
Unblinking, his gaze didn't waver from the board, as if it had begun to make sense to him.
Yongha cursed silently under his breath. He had lost the center.
Hikaru was better than good; he was excellent. Astounding. Flawless in his performance and equally flawless in his cutthroat offensive. You wouldn't think it from the scruffy soccer player, treading into a Go Salon with cleats and knee socks, scuffed in dirt and tousled from a game mere minutes ago, but he was an impressive sight to see. Not only did he hold his own, it was almost like he was watching the Korean pro from a spot far above him, waiting for him to fall into his trap.
Another fierce battle for territory in the upper right corner and Yongha knew he had lost.
Shindou was too good.
He leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath of air.
In front of him, the board was transformed into abstract patterns.
"I resign." He sighed, still reeling in he shock of being beaten by a amateur.
Hikaru blinked at him, as if he had only then realized that the game was over.
"U—uh," He stuttered, looking quite embarrassed about the whole thing. "You're really good, Yongha."
"Of course I am." He pointed out. "I made Shodan a month ago, but that was only because I was lazy. I could have been a pro three years ago."
He looked down at the board.
"I had thought that the only ones who could challenge me were those higher than I." He waved his hand in a gesture to the board. "Obviously I was wrong."
Hikaru smiled with a tinge to his cheeks.
When the blonde didn't answer, Yongha looked up. "Where did you learn this Go?"
Hikaru didn't know what to say. He rubbed his blonde bangs out of his face. "I….picked it up I guess."
"Do you have a mentor?"
"A mentor?" Hikaru echoed. "Like a teacher?"
Yongha nodded. "Yes."
Hikaru shook his head. "Not really, no. I learned from books." He looked down at his hands, quietly. As if they held the answers. "And I…feel like I can feel the game, I guess. I don't know how to put it into words. But it's like a river—I can tell how it will flow, and where it will go. All I have to do is keep up with it." He looked lamely at the other boy. "Does that make sense?"
Yongha slowly shook his head. He was bad enough already at understanding metaphors in another language, let alone ones that didn't make an ounce of sense. "Not really, no."
Hikaru groaned. "I just, I know what will happen, I guess. It all makes sense to me."
"That's called reading ahead." Yongha explained. "You're very good at it."
"Thanks?" Hikaru opted for, unsure of what to say.
Yongha began to point out some parts of the game, to which Hikaru nodded. "And this move you made here, the kosumi—
"Kosumi?" Hikaru interrupted. "What's that?"
Yongha gave him a blank stare. When he didn't say anything for a few more seconds, Hikaru became worried. "You don't know what a Kosumi is?"
"No…?"
"Do you even know any Go terms?"
"Hey!" Hikaru protested. "I know the basics!"
"Obviously not." Yongha hissed under his breath. "Anyway, this move right here is a Kosumi."
The more Yongha explained, the more it made sense. And the more it made sense, the more Hikaru felt something awaken inside of him.
/
"Yongha didn't show up." Suyon muttered to himself, standing in the lobby with Sensei, who appeared more flustered than usual.
Suyon scanned the crowd. The convention was over now, it wasn't a very long one to begin with. He hadn't been able to ask Meijin-sensei anything, mainly because of the crowd of people that clamored to do the same.
He spotted the Meijin's son, an impassive, serene look on his face as he waited near the door. At first, Suyon had been infinitely jealous of the boy. He was the Meijin's son after all, and could ask the Meijin anything he wanted at any time. But as he studied the boy more, he realized there was more to that. Constantly living in someone's shadow, and the more he watched, the more he realized that the boy probably had little or no time with his father at all. He remembered his father, a go amateur, and his uncle, a go salon owner, who were so grateful and proud of him, supporting him all the time.
Akira watched the lugubrious clouds as they mulled by him, dwarfing him and the Tokyo towers in their size and ashen color. It had been so sunny that afternoon, he wondered if it as going to rain now. While learning from his father was always eventful to some extent, he wasn't up to it today. His thoughts were on Shindou, again. What was the boy doing now? His mood soured. Probably playing soccer. Why didn't Shindou play go? When he was so talented at it? How long would he stand in this world, watching the pros above him without a rival?
There apparently was supposed to be another pro his age who was coming from Korea. But he hadn't saw anyone remotely his age. Only a young boy, but he wasn't a pro. Perhaps he had heard wrong.
"Father—
He started, to his father who had been talking to some colleagues behind him, only to find his father had strayed to the center of the room, amidst a sea of people all asking questions.
Akira sighed. Probably not the best time.
Instead, he walked out alone, hailing a taxi to take him back to the salon. Maybe he could spend the rest of the day practicing go and recreating his game with Shindou.
Ichikawa grumbled to herself.
She hadn't bothered Hikaru and his friend for obvious reasons, the two had secluded themselves in the back and she doubted they'd like to be disturbed. The two seemed to be playing an intense game.
She had opted to flutter around the rest of the customer like a social butterfly, asking them the customary greetings, pouring tea, and to the ones she knew better, asking about kids, grandkids, and so on. She enjoyed the work at the Go Salon, even more so when Akira-kun was there. He was such a polite, adorable child, never making a loud fuss like Hikaru and never carried that aloof, unnerving personality like the Korean Pro who had walked in a while ago, even though Akira was probably just as strong as the other boy.
"Oh?" Kitajima's opponent looked up, and so did the other grumpy man. "Where did Shindou-kun run off to?"
"Who cares?" The characteristically grumpy man slammed another stone down. "That kid, doing such things to the young master, who does he think he is? Akira-sensei is obviously better than him."
"I don't know," Ichikawa tapped her chin thoughtfully. "For an amateur, Shindou-kun is surprisingly good. I know Akira-kun wants him to take the pro examinations as well." She sighed. "Akira-kun has high hopes for that one."
"Him and that other boy though," Ichikawa went on to say. "They seemed to be really into that—eh?!"
The two patrons and a handful of others near enough to hear the young lady squawk turned to her.
She grumbled to herself. "Honestly! Those two boys! Don't they have any manners?" She stomped over to the back, where the two boys had left their game, without bothering to clean it up. "You have to clean them up after you're done! I'm a waitress, not a maid—
"Oh Akira-kun!" Kitajima grinned. "There you are!"
Ichikawa looked up, near dancing over back to the counter, placing her head on her hands as she kept them up with her elbows while she leaned over the counter.
"Akira-kun!" She sang. "How was the convention?"
Akira gave her a tight smile, his blue eyes scanning the room. "It was fine."
"Afternoon, Ichikawa-san!" Said one of the customers, as he entered. He blinked. "Oh, and afternoon to you as well, Akira-sensei!"
Akira blushed. "Please, Miyazaki-san…I'm no sensei…"
"Ah?" The man hadn't replied, instead, peering over the entry sign up sheet. "Shindou-kun was here?"
Akira blinked, before immediately looking at the sheet as well. And there it was, in Hikaru's abysmal and sloppy handwriting—Shindou Hikaru. He was the last one on the sheet, which meant he had to have been here fairly recently.
Touya would have swore if it wasn't against his nature. He had missed him by mere minutes. If only he had come sooner…
"Oh yes, Shindou-kun." Ichikawa nodded, and, with a bit of a blush. "He came here with another boy, really handsome, that one. "
The young dark-haired boy looked up, a feeling of betrayal in his stomach. "Another boy?"
Ichikawa seemed surprised at his interest. "Err—yes, it didn't seem like Shindou-kun wanted to be here, though. What was that boy's name again? I'd have to see the paper…" She trailed off, trying to careen over Miyazaki's head to read upside down. She closed her eyes in a huff. "The both of them, so rude. They hadn't even bothered to clean up their game—
Akira's eyes notably widened. "Where were they playing?"
"In the back." Ichikawa motioned, too busy trying to read to notice Akira hurriedly walk over to the back where Shindou and Yongha had played their game.