"Hikaru? Hikaru!" His mother puttered out of the house, looking haggard and worried. "What are you doing without a coat on? It's getting cold out!"

"It's right here!" He said, waving around his new SM windbreaker.

His mother looked nonplussed. "That is not a coat."

"I have my thermal under it," Hikaru insisted, intent upon wearing entirely SM clothes.

They'd just gotten a new shipment of winter clothes, and Hikaru would be lying if he said he wasn't obsessed. He wasn't the only one either; his classmates were salivating at the new loot, and that was to say nothing of the rest of his team. His mother didn't quite know what to make of it; Hikaru seemed to wear the white and bright blue clothes day in and day out, and while on the one hand it was nice to never have to buy him clothes, it reminded her that winter break was coming up, and he'd most likely spend the majority of it playing football in another country.

Hikaru returned his attention to his new sports bag, reverently rubbing his hands over his new Hypervenom cleats as he gently placed them in with all his pads. To say he loved them would be an understatement; he worshipped them. They were the same as Messi's! How could he not? Real Madrid wore these shoes… the idea made him stupidly excited. Man, he loved sponsorships. He had entire box worth's of clothes for the winter season; the all new hyperwarm armor, thermal zipups, wind breakers, gloves, socks, hats… not to mention his pick of any of Nike's new shoes.

"They're pretty awesome, right?" He grinned as he showed them to Waya when they met at the Institute after school for the exams.

He was really starting to like Waya; they were becoming fast friends. Not only did they both like Go, but they also had the same interests outside of Go—they loved Fifa, 2K, the same first person shooters and zombie games, and Waya had a healthy adoration for football.

He was the only person who seemed to understand the game in this whole building, which was weird to Hikaru, because it seemed like the whole world knew about football. The whole world except for the people in here, at any rate.

Waya was properly mind-blown by the existence of his new shoes.

"Tell me those aren't the new Air Force 1's."

"They're not the new Air Force 1's."

"Good now tell me the truth."

Hikaru's grin grew wider. "They totally are. Custom made!" They were done up in SM colors instead of the traditional color schemes, and even had the SM logo opposite the legendary swoosh.

"I hate you," Waya said mournfully, flopping onto the table. "I've been begging my mom for a pair of those for ages!"

"Same here," Hikaru agreed, sitting opposite of him. "She laughed in my face."

"Mine too." Waya grumped. "Man, why can't I play football for a club team too? I can't believe you guys get all this free stuff!"

Hikaru shrugged. "It's really nice." He admitted.

All the club teams were normally sponsored by some company or another, but SM had really gotten lucky with Nike. Since they were trying to break through into the market, they showered the team with brand new equipment and outfits to get more exposure at youth tournaments. In all honesty even Hikaru had been pretty miffed when he heard they were switching sponsorships from Adidas to Nike the same year he'd gotten onto the team; he'd quickly changed his tune when their first shipment arrived with a treasure trove of the coolest new sports clothes.

Waya made a very unhappy noise in response.

Their matches started soon after that, before Hikaru had time to look around for Touya. He spotted him on the other side of the room when he sat down for his match, but didn't have time to say hello.

By the time they were taking their breaks Hikaru had already gotten his opponent to resign, and felt relaxed and excited about an afternoon off.

Touya caught up to him during lunch, markedly quieter than usual. Hikaru wondered if it had something to do with his game, before snorting inwardly. He didn't think Touya would find much trouble with anyone here.

Meanwhile, Akira was thinking the same thing about the boy by his side.

It's true, he was having no trouble with his opponent for this round. In fact, he hadn't thought much on the matter at all—his thoughts were still fixated upon the game Hikaru had played a week ago now with Ogata-sensei. It had been… perfection. Just observing had made Akira's breath catch in wonder and anticipation. All of Shindou's matches were worth watching, but playing against a worthy opponent like Ogata Juudan made his strength shine even brighter. It was quite easily one of the best matches Akira had seen in a while, and he knew that his father's study group would be picking it apart and analyzing it for weeks—Ogata in particular.

He hated to lose.

And yet, Akira hadn't remembered him being all that angry at losing to a boy half his age. In fact, he'd looked pensive and thoughtful. He'd even politely thanked Shindou for the game, which was surprising in and of itself. Ogata was never particularly polite.

The man had stared into the board long after Shindou had left, begging off for dinner with his parents, saying nothing at all.

Ichikawa didn't even bother to attempt to clean up the match, knowing that the man would be back the next day to analyze it further. And he did return, with Akira's father in tow. The two spent some time simply gazing down at the board, murmuring quietly. Akira felt it prudent not to interrupt them, even though he was incredibly curious as to what they were conversing about. His father left in the late afternoon for a teaching game, and to Akira's surprise Ogata hauled Akira out to an early dinner. It quickly became apparent why Ogata wanted to talk to him so badly.

"Shindou… he's a friend of yours?"

Akira looked up from the menu, debating how to answer. "Yes." He replied, carefully. Shindou was certainly a friend, and Akira wasn't sure how he felt about that. A bit consternated, if he was being honest. Shindou was supposed to be his rival, not his friend. And yet Akira didn't know if he was truly capable of being Shindou's rival. How could he be, when the boy even managed to defeat Ogata Juudan?

Ogata said nothing for some time, answering distractedly as the waiter came over to ask for their orders.

"He's very good." He said at length, after Akira had given up conversation as a lost cause.

The boy nodded.

"I can see why you're so interested in him." Ogata added. "His style is… very curious."

"It's changed," Akira remarked, idly, "from what it was before."

"Oh?"

"His Joseki, when I met him… it was very outdated."

"How so?"

"His moves, I suppose. They were moves I'd only ever seen in older kifu from earlier centuries. He was black and he… used the Shusaku opening,"

Ogata's brows rose in surprise.

"He didn't count for Komi at all, which would explain why he used it. He didn't use any modern techniques… as if he'd only ever studied Go from the Edo period."

Ogata's shock continued.

Akira shook his head. "But as he started playing more, with kids our age, joining his school's Go tournament, and now, joining the pro exams… it's changed again. Intrinsically his style is still the same; he is a very cautious opener, but always seems to favor offense as the best form of defense—" Much like how he played football, Akira noted belatedly, "And he has that… odd way of countering strong offensive pushes—

"I noticed," Ogata snorted.

"That always throws me off. But if I were to compare the very first game he played with me, to a game we played only recently, the change would be obvious."

The Juudan said nothing to this, mulling it over thoughtfully.

Their food came, and they ate in companionable silence, both lost in thought. It wasn't until Akira had almost finished that Ogata spoke again.

"He is—impressive." The man admitted, begrudgingly. "And very tedious."

Akira cracked a smile at that.

"I don't understand him, and it deeply annoys me." The man scowled, before taking a breath. "However, I can see why you are so adamant on dealing with him delicately. Losing him over something so inconsequential as a few uncomfortable questions would be catastrophic, even if I do deeply question the origins of his talent."

Akira blinked. "You think he cheats?" He balked, surprised.

Ogata barked out a laugh. "Certainly not." He said, to Akira's relief. "But it's still a mysterious matter. At any rate, I can see your point. I would rather keep my curiosity than scare him off indefinitely."

Akira smiled in relief at that. He thought the same.

Maybe one day Shindou would open up on the matter. It wasn't as if the boy was lying or anything; he just seemed uncomfortable on the matter, and always had an evasive way of getting out of answering. Perhaps something upsetting had happened in his life, and he didn't feel comfortable speaking of it. Akira would wait for when he was ready to explain, if he ever was ready. In the meanwhile, he was simply content that Shindou was playing Go at all.

The boy was jolted out of his memories when the boy in question got up from beside him, stretching his arms. He grinned happily, pulling his arms back down. "Man, what to do with a free afternoon… maybe I'll take a nap."

Akira blinked. "You're done with your match already?"

He nodded, still grinning. "Yep. Maybe I'll play netgo or something—a friend of mine has been bugging me for ages to play him."

He blinked some more. It was just like Shindou to casually decide to play netgo, as if he didn't understand how ridiculous it was for a player of his caliber to be dabbling around on some half-rate internet site, when there was a plethora of extremely talented individuals all in this building right now.

"Will you be at the salon this weekend?" He asked politely.

Shindou blinked. "Umm…" He scratched his head. "Let's see—I have practice in the morning, and then film, and a game Sunday… Sunday afternoon?"

It always seemed to blindside him when Shindou spoke about his other endeavors. "Sure."

"See you then!"

/

Hikaru hummed thoughtfully, flopping his head back onto his pillow.

Yeongha was taking forever deliberating his next move. Hikaru had to admit, one of the reasons he loved netgo so much was that he could just open up a new tab and go internet shopping for a little bit while his opponent was thinking; if only he could get away with doing that in real life. He could only imagine how furious Touya would be at the idea. He'd probably think it insulting. Hikaru could see how it would be… but some people just took so long! What were they looking at, honestly.

He heard a ping from his computer, and he exited out of the sports news site he'd been perusing to see what Yeongha had played.

It only took him a few minutes to decide to ignore the battle in the lower right in favor of opening up territory in empty expanse of the upper left, before he was opening up a new tab and deciding to watch more highlights from the DC United game against LA Galaxy. He'd never been a fan of the American soccer leagues, but ever since Beckham had hopped the pond he'd been watching more and more of them and found himself rather impressed. It wasn't the Premier league or La Liga, but it was pretty interesting nonetheless.

An hour later Yeongha had resigned, and had immediately taken to harping him on the game chat.

Hikaru didn't even know what to say, honestly. His English had greatly improved, so he certainly knew what Yeongha was trying to say, but that didn't mean he knew how to answer it. He didn't know why he had decided to forgo the territory battle at the lower right star point, it had just seemed like a good idea at the time. He'd learned not to think too deeply on his moves when he played them, which worked great during the duration of the match, but not so great during the post-game discussions.

I decided I wanted to mess with you, he said instead, because he knew it would infuriate the boy.

I'm being serious.

So am I! He snickered. Being spontaneous is the key to life.

He knew he was going to get a scathing email at that, rebuking him for not taking Go seriously enough and then continuing on with a lecture about how Go was about strategy and deep thought, and just playing whatever he wanted whenever he wanted was a horrible strategy. Theoretically, Hikaru staunchly agreed. In practice, that always failed him though.

True to form, his phone lit up with a disgruntled message from Yeongha, reminding him that life (and go) is not a game to be taken so lightly. Hikaru threw his phone back onto the bed spread, yawning as he stretched out on his bed.

He hadn't been kidding when he told Touya he intended to sleep most of the afternoon away; an opportunity for relaxation like this couldn't go wasted.

/

Akira placed another stone down, and another, and then another. The stones began to shape into life, white taking on a puissant form as it effectively dominated black, as he recreated the game from months ago. Sweat dripped down from his brow, and he quickly wiped it away, bright eyes wide in shock at the mere inkling this play meant.

Perfection.

How was this possible?

The boy was nothing if not an impossibility. How could someone exist with this level of skill, with hardly any practice for the game, at such a young age? He was missing something. Akira gripped the table, whether in the sheer vertiginous feeling of Shindou's pressure building before him, undeniable it its size and wrathful like a vengeful demigod. Where had he learned how to play?

"Oh, just from books and stuff. I taught myself a little bit, and my grandfather showed me the basics."

He watched the game form before him as he placed a couple more stones down.

Shindou had been enigmatic as ever, hardly coming to the salon to play him, busy with the end of his soccer season, no doubt. Akira sighed. How could such a genius at Go be so involved in other things? He wanted to believe that Shindou should spend every waking moment playing the game, honing his skills, becoming stronger. But he wasn't. He was out running track and going to school and playing soccer, hardly even making it to the pro exams every week.

Maybe Shindou didn't need the practice, the prodigy mused, as he placed the pincer that had effectively cut off Ogata's forming eye in the center, and leaving black devoid of life. In the upper right corner, Ogata had used a powerful two-step hane, which should have been able to kill off Shindou's group there, but the boy had an uncanny ability to make life in the most awkward of places, this being one of them.

Shindou had a way of easily dominating anyone. He had done it to Akira every time they had played (counting their first encounter, a total of five times, the two at the go salon, in the tournament, and the three they played when Hikaru had come for a game) and had with every opponent of his in the pro exams.

To think, the boy had done the same to Ogata.

The pro had been slammed—maybe a combination of arrogance and under estimating Shindou—and reeled in shock afterwards, his confusion shown in his haphazard play for the upcoming weeks after in is league matches. Shindou had a way of doing that to someone.

He had certainly done it to Akira, many times.

Sadly, Hikaru hadn't stopped by for a game in quite a long time. While the boy was easy going and languid, certainly the kind of character who was complacent to get along with, he didn't know if he could consider them friends. He seemed to know quite a bit about Shindou and nothing at all at the same time.. Akira felt as if they had skipped the friendship step and tumbled into something deeper. Raw passion, which at times he certainly wondered where intensity thinned and loathing began. For he certainly loathed the boy, as much as he didn't want to. He wasn't supposed to be there, a freak of nature, like a maelstrom on a day with a clear blue sky.

Yet the prodigy was thankful that he was there. The winds picked at him, crushing him at times, but pushed him closer to his goal. The lashing typhoon that signified Shindou, it would destroy the foundations of modern Go, and create something new. Without Hikaru, he wouldn't be at the skill he was now. He wouldn't be pushed to his limits.

The boy had a perfect record in the pro exams, probably would continue too. They would meet one game prior to the last, and then, he would prove just where he measured against the enormous wall before him.

/

"Kaga?" Hikaru slid onto the bench next to the shogi player, who had his face in a shounen manga, looking like he was trying to be as surreptitious as possible.

The red head looked up with some no small amount of boredom. "Shindou." He greeted with a yawn.

Hikaru studied the field from the view. Kaga had chosen the highest line of benches, seemingly on purpose, away from the crowd of parents that had come to watch the last game of the fall season. As he looked closer, he noticed many more of them were from Kaio then from Haze, seeing as though they were playing the finals at the former's school. With another glance at Kaga, it was easy to tell the third year had no interest in roping himself in with stuck up parents.

"What are you doing here?"

"My sister's boyfriend is on the team, and she made me come along." He motioned to a girl who looked quite similar to him, with her long hair tied up and a smile on her face as she waved over to…Tsukasa?

Hikaru mulled this over with a wry grin, the next time the guy wanted to make a jab at the first year, he'd have his own set of ammunition ready.

"I didn't know you cared much for soccer." He commented lightly. "Actually, I didn't think you cared much for anything besides shogi."

Kaga eyed him over his book with deep eyes, before snapping it shut at the spine, closing his eyes and leaning back against the brisk fall wind. "I could say the same for you?"

"Huh?"

"I didn't think you were good at anything besides Go."

"Hey!—" His first reaction was to retort, but he was lost in the sheer shock that there was actually someone who thought of him as Hikaru the go player, and not Hikaru the soccer player, coming from someone who knew both sides of his life. Touya did, he supposed, but the boy only really knew of his soccer life in passing. None of the insei knew much either, prior to the day Nase had picked him up to play go with her and Waya, they hadn't even been aware he had the ability to kick a ball. "I'm good at both." He ended after abruptly cutting himself off, looking miffed.

Kaga shrugged, zipping his windbreaker higher as the wind pulled at his hair.

He watched the boy in front of him with contemplation, wondering what such an enigma was doing here, on this field (in this world).

Shindou, since the day he had slapped his gum where the boy was about to play his stone, had struck him…off. Perhaps not because of the two toned hair. Kaga would be lying if he said that walking through a graveyard didn't make the hairs on his neck stand, or that the pressing of otherworldly deities didn't make him break in a cold sweat.

But Shindou, Shindou didn't have any sort of mild effect on him like that. It was more like…he was lost. Maundering about between two planes, eyes flickering like the blue painted sky, before reverting to their strange, grayish green quality. Eyes were the window to the soul, Kaga knew, but Shindou's soul was split.

How odd, the Shogi player mused to himself, watching the boy in front of him with windy hair and cloudy eyes. What is this presence I feel?

Like a Genki tree, spreading its millennia year old roots into the soft soil, branches grasping the sky. Old, he was an old soul. An alarmingly sentient, old soul.

Why has it come back?

Shindou seemed to take his deep pondering as a lack of rebuke, and grinned triumphantly. "I'm right, aren't I?"

Kaga only shook his head. While the boy was a genius in go, he certainly wasn't in academics. "Grow up." He closed his eyes, and turned away from the boy, leaning back onto the railing of the bleachers.

Shindou sputtered, devoid of a comeback.

The red head opened his eye a crack, to skewer the soccer player with his narrowed gaze. "And bleach your whole head. It looks stupid with just the bangs."

"S—Stupid?!" Hikaru echoed, placing a conscious hand to his bangs. "Yeah? Well you're stupid!"

He hopped off the edge and landed with a dull thud, turning around to stick his tongue out at the older boy just for good measure, before speeding off with a smile.

The match ended with Kaio losing—big surprise there—and Hikaru felt nothing but relief amongst his angst ridden teammates, all depressing over their last season. The spring season didn't start until after the new school year, and the third years would all be graduating into senior high. Hikaru wondered where he'd be then. Surely, he'd still be playing soccer. But what about Go? Would he be a professional? Would he even have time to play soccer?

Hikaru mulled through his strewn thoughts without interpretation.

He wanted to play Go. Deep inside of him, twining around his heart like tight vines, the passion for the game grew more and more. It confused him, really. It seemed to have been rooted inside of him since before he was born. And then there was his love for soccer, an unconditional feeling that gave him this light, soaring feeling. Running down the field like a bird soaring in the sky.

And the biggest question of all.

Who am I?

I am Hikaru Shindou. His mind supplied unhelpfully. Being Hikaru Shindou meant nothing when Hikaru Shindou was only an alias, only a term. What did that name mean? What did it mean to be him?

"Stop looking so bummed!" Taro came up from behind him, swinging a lanky arm around his shoulders.

"Me, bummed?"

The older boy was being hypocritical; behind his easy smile was sadness. The wind tugged at both of their jerseys, the sun searing the sky claret red as it set significantly earlier then usual. Winter was coming fast. Barely five and the sun was already on its last embers. Just like the fall season, it was as if it had barely even started, and yet now it was ending. Hikaru wondered what else would end today.

"I'm not bummed." He answered honestly. "Are you?"

Taro shrugged. "I'll miss playing with the guys." He looked wistfully over to where Ryuu had dumped a gracious amount of water onto Tachibana, who squawked and proceeded to chase the other boy around the team with a bottle of his own. The rest of the team howled with laughter when Ryuu successfully dodged Tachibana's attempts to drench him, and the forward redoubled his efforts by snatching Tsukasa's bottle and double wielding. "I'll miss you too, squirt." He ruffled Shindou's hair, the first year cringing in protest.

After a good five seconds of it, he finally wiggled his way out of the third-year's grip and tried to smooth out his mussed hair, which had begun to curl every which way. His eyes softened when he realized this would probably be the last time he'd ever see Taro. "I'll miss you too, Taro-sempai."

The older boy blinked silver hair out of his eyes in shock. "Hey! You actually called me sempai!" He turned to Ryuu and hollered, "Shindou called me Sempai! You hear that? Maybe he'll call you it too! Come here!"

"What am I—a zoo animal?!" The go player guffawed. "Ryuu, don't come over!"

Like perfect reverse psychology, the defenseman jogged over to peer at Hikaru, who flushed and backed away. "I gotta see this for myself." The two of them had been trying to get the boy to be one of those irritating first years that hung off of every word they said, tottering around and calling them 'sempai'. It never happened. But Hikaru figured, since it was their last day as a team, he might as well.

"Fine." He bit out. "Ryuu-sempai."

The older boy gaped. "It happened! It really happened!" He turned around abruptly to streak through the soccer players sitting in a lopsided circle, waiting for the bus. "The sky's falling! Run! Hurry! Shindou's learned manners!"

The boy with two toned hair only rolled his eyes, hoping people assumed the heat on his cheeks was from the frosted wind, and not from embarrassment.

He shot another glance to his team, Taro a smudge of silvery lining against the sun next to him, Ryuu dancing like a dark haired crow in the middle of the team, who had proceeded to throw thrash at the comical defensemen, Tsukasa, quiet and reserved watching from a fair distance away from the circle, seated next to Tachibana, who looked equally subdued.

His phone rang in his pocket.

Yeongha was mentioning something about an upcoming go convention he'd be playing at in Japan in the Spring, and suddenly, soccer strayed from his mind.

The prospect made him light up immediately—he'd missed the Korean professional, oddly enough. It just wasn't the same playing him online. There was something be said of facing directly across your opponent, being able to look into their eyes and see the same passion for the game that was lit in your own. Though Hikaru's intensity had a long way to go before he could even think about reaching Yeongha or Touya, he could at least recognize it when he saw it in others. At any rate, Yeongha was saying he'd be in town for at least a week, maybe longer depending on his scheduling for next year. Hikaru couldn't wait.

He dawdled on the field for some time, bantering with the third-years and saying his farewells. There was nothing Hikaru hated more than goodbyes, but it seemed inevitable at this point.

He was going to miss them a lot.

It wasn't as if Hikaru was going to be stopping soccer during the break—quite the contrary. School breaks were always the most intense periods for him, since most youth tournaments took place on non-school days. But SM wasn't Haze, in any sense of the word. He liked his SM teammates a lot, but they weren't the same. Haze was just—fun. It was a jumble of kids playing football because they loved football, and they loved playing it whenever they could. They were competitive, but it never got out of hand. SM was incredibly competitive, selective and demanding, and it reflected in the team's demeanor. They were all kids, and they definitely messed around at hotels when they traveled—relishing in the lack of parental supervision—but they all knew just how tough it was to be on an elite travel team like this, and knew they had to work hard to continue to be on it.

Playing for Haze was playing for pure enjoyment and love of the game. Playing for SM was playing to win.

Hikaru paused suddenly, stopping abruptly on the sidewalk on his way home. He bounced the ball up in the air with his foot a couple times, before he caught it beneath his cleat and frowned pensively into the concrete.

Was that going to happen with Go?

Right now, playing Go for him was a lot like playing football for Haze. Would it change when he became a professional? Would playing Go start to resemble playing for SM instead?

He shook his head.

No way.

Go was different.

/

"Hikaru-kun!" Akari gasped, whirling around.

Hikaru blinked at her exuberance, taken aback. "Akari-chan," he greeted. "Why do you look so surprised to see me? You said to meet here, right?"

"Well, right." She agreed, slowly, strangely flushed in the face. Maybe she should have worn another jacket—it was really cold out here. "I just hadn't expected—Hikaru-kun, your hair!"

"What about it?" He ran a self-conscious hand through it, a bit worried.

Stupid Kaga, making him question his hair of all things. He eventually just ended up taking the other boy's advice and dying his whole head. It certainly made him look… different. More mature, he thought. He realized with great exasperation that he had started styling it exactly like his teammates did; probably from hanging out with them so much.

"Nothing," she shook her head with wonder. "You just—you look like a K-pop star!"

"W—what is that supposed to mean?" He floundered, horrified.

She giggled. "I dunno; it was a compliment."

Was it? He had no idea what that meant, but she seemed to be genuine when she said she liked it. He'd always thought K-pop idols always looked totally crazy, but then again they had to be popular for a reason.

She moved closer, tugging at the lapels of his jacket. "This is really cute," she murmured. "When did you get this?"

"Christmas," he hedged, totally weirded out. Why was she so close? And petting him like this? One of her hands moved into his hair, and he darted away. "Oi! Don't touch that!"

Akari giggled again. "Don't want me to mess up your hair style?" She teased.

Yes, precisely. But hell if he'd tell her that.

"Why don't we just go?" He grumbled. "You wand a hot chocolate or something?"

She brightened. "Yes please!"

Hikaru wandered over to a nearby vending machine, tugging change out of his back pocket. Privately, he was kind of happy to get some time to spend with his oldest friend. It seemed like it had been ages since he'd last hung out with her. Well that might be true—he hadn't been home for any of break thus far. The pro exams would resume after the new year, as would school, and Hikaru would hopefully return to normal.

He tossed her the can, grinning as she beamed happily at him. He'd been meaning to spend more time with her, honestly—she was his closest and oldest friend, after all, but he didn't really have time these days. So it was nice to squeeze in a bit of time to go see a movie with her, even if he had no interest in any of the movies, and hadn't seen any of the previews. But it made Akari happy, so he supposed he could endure two and a half hours of what was most likely going to be an over-dramatic, drawn out and convoluted love triangle.

"How was your break?" He asked, returning his thoughts to the present.

Akari made a noncommittal noise as she skipped beside him, kicking up snow everywhere. "It was alright." She shrugged. "It's always so quiet at grandma and grandpa's."

Hikaru nodded. "But you saw your cousins, right?"

"Yeah—that was nice. Miki-chan has gotten so big! I hadn't realized." She shook her head. "Anyway, how was yours, huh? Probably way more interesting than mine."

Hikaru scratched the back of his neck. "Eh," he hedged. "I played a lot of football." That was putting it lightly.

Akari pouted. "I'm sure you did more than that! How was Seoul?"

"Really nice." He admitted. "They had the nicest stadium I'd ever seen—

"Even better than Singapore?"

"Err—okay, that's a hard comparison." He waved her off. "But anyway, Korea was great. We went out for barbeque a couple times, and japchae, and saw some of the temples. To be honest, we didn't really get out of our hotel much."

"How were the games?"

"Good—really tough teams." He grinned just at the memory.

Akari grinned cheekily. "But you won, right?"

"Right." He nodded, wondering when the hell it had become expected of him to win all the time.

The thought made him maudlin, though. Was his whole life really about winning and losing? It sure seemed like it. Every football game, ever Go match… Hikaru shook his head. That couldn't be true. There was more to life than that. And wasn't he just ruminating on the differences between playing for the enjoyment, and playing for the glory? Hikaru didn't want to play just to win—it seemed like such a sad and unfulfilling way to approach things. A lot of the guys on his club team were like that; driven and determined to win and succeed, and he wasn't sure if that stemmed from a passion for the game or if they'd strayed away from that as time passed, playing to win, to impress, to pursue and continue careers.

He debated whether the Go players in his life were like that. Touya certainly played to win, and to pursue his career with a single-minded dedication and determination that was awe inspiring on occasion. But Hikaru knew that his competitive nature stemmed from a true love of the game. At the heart of it all, Touya loved Go. He'd searched each and every face at the Tencent Championship game this year, looking for that same expression he'd found on Touya's. It was readily apparent on a lot of the players—the better players—and it made Hikaru question his own motives, in a way he had never bothered to before.

Was his entire life just him going with the flow? Following the crowd that swept him up, benign and ambivalent to the proceedings?

It was true he enjoyed football, but he would never know if that was because it had been thrust upon him at such an early age. Had he simply just grown to like it, or had he a passion for the game even as a young child? And what of his friends? Before he had started to play Go, he had to admit they all followed the same pattern one way or another. That wasn't to say they were shallow, or that Hikaru didn't appreciate them, but there were certainly similarities; they all liked sports, the same video games, the same action movies and athletes and rappers. He hadn't meant to fall into that cool kid crowd, but just by way of activities and existing friendships he'd found himself as one of them—and it hadn't even occurred to him that there was something else out there until he'd finally worked up the courage to wander into a Go salon.

Hikaru frowned out into the distance, both he and Akari lost in a comfortable silence as they walked to the theaters.

He clearly remembered being so mortified at the idea of walking into a Go salon, wondering what all his friends would think, what everyone else would think. It seemed so foolish now, but hadn't he done the same thing with Yeongha? When the other boy had found his kifu Hikaru's first and intrinsic response was to deny that it was his, and distance himself from Go. And when Nase had approached him after a football game, hadn't he also felt apprehension at the idea of both his worlds colliding?

Hikaru had certainly gotten better at letting go of all those shallow mentalities, in no small part because his teammates made no big show of it. Go was a nerdy old man's game, and nerds were not particularly liked in the realm of adolescence, but none of them seemed to care if he played it or not, or even if he was competing in Go tournaments or taking an exam to become a Go professional. He wondered if he would have even decided to take the exam otherwise. Touya had a lot to do with inspiring him, but would he even have bothered if he knew it would ostracize him from his friends? Being different was… scary. He didn't know if he was strong enough for that.

"What are you thinking of?" Akari prodded him out of his thoughts, tucking her phone back in her pocket from where she'd been pecking out a text.

Hikaru blinked. "Ah—just… life, I guess."

"That's a lot to think about," she smiled. "Don't hurt yourself."

He shoved her playfully. "I can think deep thoughts," he sniffed.

"Yes you can," she agreed, this time very serious. "You're not your average football star, that's for sure."

He paused, her words striking to the thoughts he had been running circles in his head. "You think so?"

"Of course." She blinked rapidly. "Not many superstar football players decide to pursue a career in Go—or any football players, or anyone our age, really."

"Do you think… that's a bad thing?" He asked, carefully, making sure to keep his voice light.

Akari's brows furrowed. "No." She said after a moment. "It's just different."

He let out a breath, smiling slightly. "Different, huh?"

And then, to her total surprise (and his), he reached over and hugged her. Akari squeaked, but didn't move away. "Hikaru—?" She said, but when he didn't reply she simply relaxed and hugged him back, a tad worried. Hikaru wasn't a very touchy feely person.

"You're okay, right?" She asked, panicky.

He laughed then, pulling away. "Great, actually!" He grinned. "I just—thanks."

"For what?" She blinked.

"For being such a good friend."

Akari blinked again, before her whole face flushed red like a tomato. Hikaru frowned, concerned. "What's wrong? Are you okay? That hot chocolate isn't too hot, is it?"

"What? No!" She turned away, busying herself with her scarf. "It's nothing."

It didn't seem like nothing, but he shrugged and let the subject drop as they neared the movie theater. "What crap are you making me watch again?" He asked, with a dramatic sigh.

This had the intended effect, and Akari turned around, looking pissy. "It's not crap!" She insisted. "I can't believe you don't know about it, it's so popular in Korea…"

Great, Hikaru thought. Korean dramas were the worst.