Hello again, after all these years! I'm not entirely sure what possessed me to completely revamp this story, but creativity comes in weird ways I guess...

I would suggest a re-read if you're coming back after all these years, the whole story has been updated and changed.

Thanks for hanging in there!

He made sure to tell Yeongha that, as they waited in line for popcorn.

He wasn't really surprised when Yeongha told him he shared the sentiment. The Korean pro didn't understand their generation at all, and all the hip culture and what was in with their peers and what wasn't, even though Hikaru would have never known that by looking at him. Yeongha looked like he was the lead star of a Korean drama, honestly; dressed like he was a member of EXO and had a gaggle of fan girls that knew nothing about Go, but followed him around anyway. But he was apparently as out of touch with their generation as Hikaru's grandfather, and most other Go professionals. He just didn't wear argyle knit sweaters.

Yeongha went on to ask why on earth Hikaru was commenting on something like that in the first place, to which Hikaru mournfully explained his situation to him.

Yeongha went on to tell him he was really stupid, and that he should download the Go app so he could spend the whole time playing Yeongha. Hikaru hadn't realized there was one of those, but then again there seemed to be an app for everything. He let it download while he and Akari argued over what flavor of popcorn to share. In the end, Akari won out with some weird cheesy concoction, but Hikaru got to put in as much butter as he wanted. This was going to kill him at practice tomorrow, but it sounded so delicious right now.

Hikaru was right; the movie was exactly what he expected it to be. Long, dramatic, and utterly pointless.

He spent almost the entire duration of it huddled in his jacket, hiding his phone underneath all the fabric so he wouldn't piss off all the other people in the theater as he engaged himself in a riveting match with Yeongha. Fortunately Akari was too enamored with the movie—or rather, the main star of the movie—to notice that he wasn't even paying attention. Whatever, a game with Yeongha was so much more interesting anyway.

It turned out the same website that Hikaru played netgo on had a version for his phone; he was going to be using this all the time now! The possibilities were endless, and he was near salivating at the thought. Bus rides, train rides, waiting in line at the grocery store… he could play Go through all of that! Well, maybe not. The game still took a long time, and required a lot of dedication and thought, so it wasn't really good for the distractive mobile lifestyle. But it was nice for times like this, where Hikaru was trapped in something for hours with no foreseeable future.

They finished the game well before the movie ended, and Yeongha spent forever drilling him on certain moves; why did he take the star point then, why did he play this hasami… Hikaru hated to break it to him, but he had only recently started to learn the terms for all the moves. Even now he didn't quite know which stones Yeongha was referring to.

Finally he decided a change in subject was in order, and excitedly told the Korean pro that he was taking the pro exams this year.

And then his phone started going off in his jacket.

"Hikaru!" Akari reprimanded him, hissing sternly. "You're supposed to shut that off!"

"Sorry, sorry." Dammit.

He slinked out of the dark theater, waiting until he had retreated into the wanly lit hallway before looking down at his phone. Apparently his initiation into the pro exams was enough to warrant a wechat call.

"You're becoming a Pro and you didn't tell me?" The Korean demanded.

"You told me you wanted me to be one!" Hikaru pointed out.

"Yes but—" Yeongha made a strangled noise. "You should have told me in the first place!"

"What does it matter either way?" Hikaru scowled, leaning against the wall. "Now you know. It hasn't been that long since the exams started anyway."

Yeongha made a commiserative noise. "How's your record looking?"

Hikaru grinned. "No losses."

Yeongha did not seem all that surprised. "So you're taking the pro exam already…" He muttered, almost to himself. "What changed your mind?"

"Huh?"

"Last we spoke, you told me taking a step like that was way too much for you."

He was speechless for some time. "I… I did say that." Hikaru agreed, softly. "But it's—different, now. I just… I want to play Go, y'know? I want to play Go, and play great games. And if that means I need to be a professional, then I'll be a professional."

Yeongha was silent.

"I see." Was all he had to say on the matter.

Quite frankly, Hikaru was surprised the Korean professional wasn't grilling him for more information. It would certainly be unsurprising, coming from the boy. But he seemed to understand what Hikaru meant.

"I'm glad you're taking it." He said at last. "I hope we can play an official match soon."

"Me too!" Hikaru grinned brightly. "But we'll play when you come to Japan, right?"

"Right." Yeongha agreed.

Hikaru cut the call soon after that, as the movie was finally ending. Akari didn't even seem all that mad he'd ditched her for the last half hour—or that he'd been playing Go on his phone the entire time—and had stars in her eyes for the handsome lead role. They went out for ice cream, and fortunately Hikaru managed to finagle the conversation away from breaking down the heroine's outfits to more relevant topics. Akari at least knew a lot about football. That was probably because of him, but they also had a lot of mutual friends to talk about and stories from break to swap.

Akari had never met any of his SM teammates, but she did love to hear stories about them. Unfortunately Hikaru didn't have much to say on the matter; they had all been too tired and exhausted to do much else than take showers and fall onto their beds. Those games had been grueling, but invigorating.

He walked her home after that, looking up into the winter sky. It was still early, but the sun was already setting.

"Hikaru?" Akari prodded him out of his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Where are you going?" She pointed down the street that led home. "Aren't you going home?"

"No," he shook his head. "I've got to do something. I'll catch you later though, okay?"

She watched him race down the street with no small amount of bewilderment.

.

.

.

one year prior /

I can't believe I'm doing this, Hikaru thought, maybe a bit hysterically.

He looked around wildly, as if one of his teammates would randomly jump out of one of the shops lining the street. They didn't of course, because everyone was at Takinawa-sempai's party, he reminded himself. Still, he felt nervous and ridiculous just standing out here, peering up at the Go Salon sign, wondering if he should really go in. Playing grandpa is enough, he thought to himself, in a last ditch effort to back out of this. It wasn't though. His jii-chan was someone he liked a lot, so playing him was always enjoyable, but he wasn't… just, sometimes it wasn't enough.

And he did come all this way… he ditched Takinawa-sempai's party… the train ticket was kind of pricey…

To hell with it, he shook his head rapidly. There was no other way but forward.

Anticlimactically, the Go salon wasn't all that remarkable. A pretty, amiable looking woman was manning the counter, and the salon had enough patrons to be considered busy but not crowded.

Hikaru ran a self-conscious hand through his hair, fidgeting with the bottom of his shirt before he realized what he was doing and mentally chastised himself for it. Man, why was he so nervous? This was ridiculous! He hadn't even been nervous last year trying out for Team Japan in the Asia-Pacific U-15 tournament! It was just a board game, dammit.

He waltzed right up to the counter, smiling in a way he hoped didn't show his anxiety. "Hello,"

"Oh! Hi there." The woman turned away from a stack of papers, leaning against the counter. "Are you looking to play a game?"

Fortunately, she didn't seem to be eying him up and judging everything from his hair to his shoes—in fact, she didn't even look all that surprised by his young age. If anything, she was taking it all in stride.

"Err—yeah."

"Okay," she nodded, pointing with her index finger to a sign in sheet. "You can just sign in here, and write your skill level."

"Skill level?" He echoed, surprised.

She looked at him, as if to finally take his appearance in. He wondered what she saw; punk kid who had a record and a mischievous streak? Rising football player for SM? Regular middle schooler?

"Ah, is this your first time playing a game?" She asked, with a twinkle in her eye.

He rubbed the back of his head. "Well, no… I play with my grandpa sometimes…"

"I see, well, you can just leave that blank for now." She replied.

Hikaru looked around the room, suddenly terrified at the prospect of having to approach one of these older patrons and ask for a game. It all seemed so… awkward. Not for the first time in the past two hours, he cursed himself for going through with this plan. He also cursed himself for picking up a Go stone in the first place. None of this would have happened if he had never stepped foot in his grandfather's shed, looking for things to wheedle cash out of.

He would have never seen that Goban, he would have never felt that pull, he would never have been drawn to it, would have never been curious about the timeless strategy game. And he wouldn't be here now.

His gaze landed on a boy in the back, sitting by himself.

"Oh!" He pointed. "He looks like he's my age." That was such a novelty in and of itself Hikaru decided that this was going to be his opponent for the day. How crazy! A kid his age in here, amongst all the dinosaurs!

The boy looked up.

"U—Uh…" The shopkeeper looked hesitant. "Um, you might now want to—

But the other boy had already wandered over.

He looked nice enough, wearing a pleasant smile and a uniform from a prep school Hikaru vaguely recognized. He'd seen the insignia before; maybe he'd played their team or something. At any rate, Hikaru was just pleased to find someone his age.

"Hi, I'm Touya Akira," the boy introduced himself. "Were you looking for a game?"

Hikaru grinned. "I'm Shindou Hikaru! Nice to meet you! Yeah, I am!"

Touya nodded. "I'll play you," he said. "You can just follow me."

Hikaru bounded over to him, much to the surprise of the girl behind the counter. "H—Hey!" She squawked. "It's 500 yen for kids!"

Hikaru balked. "500—?!"

"It's alright, Ichikawa-san," Touya smiled at her with a charming visage, and the woman simply huffed and let him off the hook.

500 yen—man, who would have thought Go was so expensive! Actually, that wasn't all that expensive a cover charge, but it was to Hikaru, who had been cut off from his allowance. His parents had really chewed him out for this abysmal grades and his penchant for trouble. He'd been getting better though! He'd stopped hanging out with that crowd, and focused in more on football, and asked Akari to study with him from time to time. It was actually working, and he was making progress on all fronts. Hopefully they'd ease up and start giving him cash again.

Touya led him to the same table he'd been at, gesturing for Hikaru to sit.

"How many stones do you want as a handicap?" Touya asked genially, as he opened his go ke. "4? Or 5?"

Hikaru blinked. "Handicap? But we're the same age!"

"A—ah…" Touya looked at him with surprise, before his expression reverted back. "I guess so. Why don't you go first."

Hikaru thought he was acting rather funny, but shrugged and did it anyway. His grandpa had said something about a way to guess something and then decide who got what color, or something? That was a lot of somethings, but he couldn't remember.

He looked down at the board, squinting deeply as he held the stone with his thumb and index finger.

Hikaru tried actually counting the lines and trying to figure out where to put his stone down, but eventually just gave up and decided to place it where he wanted to place it, everything else be damned. It had worked splendidly with his grandpa; Hikaru had had absolutely no idea what he was doing, knew nothing of Go, or strategy games at all, and yet his grandfather had immediately sung his praises once they'd finished playing. He supposed if it worked then, it would work now, right?

He and Touya exchanged a few hands in silence; Touya's expression had gradually changed from his polite ambivalence to genuine interest after they'd played for a couple minutes.

Hikaru found himself pausing at random intervals during the game, debating where he wanted to put his stone next.

It was very strange, following his whims like this. It seemed so counter intuitive to be so tactless in such a taciturn game. His grandfather said Go was all about reading many hands ahead of your opponent, and strategy and patterns and a lot of thinking, pretty much. It was an intellectual's game, and yet Hikaru was not using his brain at all. In fact, he was consciously trying not to think about Go, and just think about where he felt like putting his stone down, throwing logic and rationality to the wind.

And once more, it appeared to be working.

Touya's brow had creased in a furrow of concentration, and he stared long and hard into the board, looking a strange mixture of thoughtful and concerned. Hikaru didn't quite know what to make of it, but he found the determination there so fascinating nonetheless.

The other boy hadn't looked all that interested in playing a game with HIkaru, though he was indeed friendly. But he'd changed radically as they progressed; now his full and total attention was solely focused on the board, as if the rest of the world didn't exist outside of it.

It was… intense.

…

In the end, Hikaru went home with time to spare.

He felt kind of achy, which was ridiculous, considering he'd spent the majority of the afternoon essentially doing nothing. It wasn't like he'd just gotten done with a set of dead sprints or anything. Still, he felt kind of tired; maybe he'd take a nap or something. At any rate, he would consider this afternoon a success. He had really enjoyed playing that other boy—it felt so satisfying just to even hold the stones in his hands. He didn't really care about if he had won or not (quite frankly, he didn't even know) and was just happy that he'd played at all.

"Good!" He said to himself, cheerily. "Maybe I'll get it out of my system this way."

He could make this work—sneaking to a Go salon every once in a blue moon to satisfy his craving for Go. That was doable.

He made for the station with far more exuberance than he had come with, and a big grin on his face.

/

Meanwhile, it had been a week and Akira was still unable to process the game.

No, that wasn't quite right. He could process it. He understood the flow of the game, the other boy's Joseki, why he had played certain hands at certain times. He understood Go. But he did not understand the boy. He sat in rigid silence as Ichikawa-san explained what she knew of the mysterious other boy. He'd told her he'd never really played before, just with his grandpa. That couldn't be right. This level of skill… it took years, no, decades to cultivate and grow. Yet the boy was strong, of that there was no doubt. So strong that he had actually been tutoring Akira, placing moves to gently test what Akira's response would be. That was… impossible.

Impossible.

It had been a week, and this game was all he could think about. This game… and the boy who played it with him. Who was he? Where did he come from?

And perhaps most importantly, was he coming back?

It had been a week now, and he had come to the salon everyday, and made sure to tell Ichikawa to be on the lookout for the boy. His name was Hikaru. Shindou Hikaru. Or at least, Akira was fairly sure that was his name—his handwriting was rather abysmal. But knowing a name and a face wouldn't do much in a city like this, so Akira had no choice but to wait and hope that the boy would return. From the look of it, he most likely would not.

Akira tried to remember him—anything about him that had any kind of significance. It was hard to remember anything else but the two-toned colored hair, striking, but unfortunately very popular with the kids his age. He hadn't said much, not enough to define anything about him.

It made him want to flip the table over in frustration. He never would have expected to find someone his age with enough skill to challenge him. Or, from the look of it, enough skill to even surpass him. He had never felt this way about anyone before; he needed a rematch. It could not end this way.

And yet, the wondrous possibility had been ripped away from him as quickly as it had come, disappearing back into the sprawling Tokyo skyline. Who knows where that boy was now. He could be anywhere. Maybe he wasn't even from Tokyo.

Akira clenched his fist, looking away.

"Hmm? Oh, Akira-kun! Akira-kun!"

The boy looked up slowly, wondering if it was Ichikawa leading someone else over for a tutoring game. He didn't want to tutor anyone. He didn't want to play Go. He… he didn't know what he wanted. But when he found her, she was across the room, rustling underneath the counter. She poked her head out after a bit, waving something around in one hand. He squinted. It looked like… a piece of paper?

"What is it?" He got up laboriously, unwillingly curious.

Upon closer inspection, he could make out the identifying marks of a goban, and two stones.

"It's a flyer for the youth tournament being held at the Go Institute today," she explained. Akira nodded slowly… yes, he already knew about that. She wasn't asking him to participate, was she? "I gave it to that boy!"

He blinked. And then blinked again.

"Eh?!" And then he was leaning over the counter and grabbing one for himself, reading through the fine print.

"I'm not sure if he's there…" She started, uneasily. "But he seemed interested, and he did take the flyer…"

But he wasn't listening to her.

It was a chance—a very small one, but a chance nonetheless. And he didn't have a second to waste.

/

"What are you doing after this, Hikaru?"

"Yeah, you guys want to go to Mcdonalds?"

"No way, coach would kill us!"

"Yeah, Mitsuhara's right! Let's just go to the arcade or something."

"Or there's that new Marvel movie out—

Hikaru let the voices of his teammates wash over him, lost in thought. The Go flyer seemed to burn a hole in his pocket. He stuck his hand in, just to make sure it was still there… the last thing he needed is to accidentally drop it and have one of his teammates find out about it. He couldn't even imagine. He still felt strange after that game of Go. Like… a part of him had wandered off somewhere, and he didn't know how to get it back. He felt as if he was lost in the ether between dreams and waking, in those few gossamer moments where dreams sift over reality, and he felt as if he couldn't connect to either side.

It felt like waking up.

"Hikaru?"

He jolted out of his thoughts, turning to his teammates, who all were looking at him expectantly. "Oh… um… I promised my mom I would be home for dinner—sorry guys!"

Fortunately they all took it in stride, teasing him for being such a goody-two shoes, and for getting into so much trouble that his parents had him whipped. He probably deserved that, though. He waved his farewells, and watched the crowd of rowdy boys leap all over each other and shove each other off the sidewalk in fits of laughter, excited about their upcoming U-15 Japan tournament. Next year, they'd all be in junior high… he couldn't imagine it.

He waited until they were out of sight before he retrieved the slightly rumpled flyer from his pocket.

Hikaru bit his lip. If he left now, he'd catch the end of it. But should he?

He glanced back up, where the street was empty of anyone, football players included.

His lips thinned, and then he pivoted smartly on one foot and made for the train station. When he was safely boarded, he spared a moment to look down. He looked like a mess—there was still mud on his leg from where he'd slide tackled the other team's defender; his socks were black, fortunately, but still also quite dirty, and his jersey had that starchy feeling of cooled sweat. He sniffed himself. Well, at least he didn't smell. And he changed out of his cleats to put on his roshe's, and ran a hand through his hair to at least attempt to look presentable. He took off his shin guards and stuffed them in his bag, vowing to clean it out as soon as possible, before it really started to reek.

By the time he'd made it to the tournament he looked a bit better; less like he'd just spent the afternoon rolling, sliding and tackling people into the dirt and more like he'd just spent a couple hours out in the dirt.

He was glad for the foresight, because the sight that greeted him was… interesting, to say the least.

Long rows of stone-faced children sat opposite each other in total silence, the atmosphere in the room as intense as the locker room before Team Japan's championship game against Taiwan; the still air, the shuddering breaths, his teammates next to him lost in their own heads, getting into the zone. Hikaru blinked. He was surprised to feel that same pressure here, of all places. Maybe he shouldn't have been, though. Go was a very difficult and intense game—or at least, he assumed so. It never seemed that way to him.

He wandered around the room for a bit, just taking it all in.

Hikaru was surprised to see kids even younger than him sitting down in these long rows of tables, so focused and determined. He was quite fascinated by it all. This was Go? Really? He'd always just thought of it as that old man's game. He knew what it was, of course, in the way everyone knew what it was from pop-culture references and movies and stuff like that. But he'd never once thought on the reality of it; that there could be a giant auditorium's worth of kids playing it, that it actually had it's own world to it.

It felt like too much, suddenly. The air closed in around him, the silence became overbearing. He adjusted his duffel bag on his shoulder, and then darted out of there.

It felt better outside. The atmosphere weighed heavy upon the city in a casting grayscale gloom, but it was far cooler and the breeze felt reassuring on his face. Hikaru took a deep breath, and then promptly wondered what on earth was wrong with him.

It wasn't as if he didn't recognize those faces. He'd seen them before, even on kids as young as that. He wondered if he had looked like that, when his parents had first enrolled him in football camps as a young child. He remembered when he got onto his very first real team—not just the kiddie leagues, but the actual official Japanese youth football league—and all the kids his age trying out for the same spot. They all were so young, but they all had that same expression of drive and determination. Hikaru couldn't remember that far back really, but he was fairly sure he had never been like that. Hell, he was probably the one kid trying to balance his water bottle on his nose.

Hikaru shook his head.

No, he'd definitely seen intensity before. The world of sports was dripping in it; all tears, sweat and blood. But it was seeing it on those kids as they played Go that really got to him. It was Go that really got to him.

He was so lost in thought he didn't realize that someone was calling his name until he'd almost walked right past the station.

"Eh?" He blinked, looking up to see a vaguely familiar boy.

Oh! It was the boy from the Go salon. He looked as if he'd attempted to run a timed mile in his school uniform. How strange. Why wouldn't he have changed? Hikaru looked down. At the very least, into better shoes than that. (Hikaru might be biased though, he was very particular on his shoes)

"Shindou!" He cried, striding forward.

Hikaru watched him with both apprehension and curiosity, surprised by the look in the other boy's eyes. "Touya…"

"I found you…" He said, panting for air. "I finally found you…"

Hikaru blinked again, before grinning, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Hi! What's going on?"

It was Touya's turn to be caught off guard. "Huh? Um…"

"Oh, did you go to the Go tournament?"

Touya paused, lips thinning as he pondered something deeply. "Did you?" He asked, instead of answering.

"Me?" Hikaru rubbed the back of his head with a self-deprecating laugh. "No way! I only watched for a little bit."

His eyes softened. "It was really cool, y'know? Everyone was so serious… I've never seen anything like it. It was kind of touching."

"Touching?" Touya repeated. "Have you never been serious about anything?"

It was an innocent question, but Hikaru wanted to retort with no small amount of heat that yes, of course he had been serious about things before. But then he closed his mouth, thinking the question over deeply. Had he? There was no question that he took all his football games seriously. But had he ever had determination like that? It was so intense… it felt like a physical presence in the room.

"Uh, well…" He hedged awkwardly.

But Touya didn't seem to be listening. "May I see your hands?"

What? Hikaru reeled back,. "My hands?" He held out his hands anyway, surprised when Touya grabbed one and deeply inspected it.

Hikaru wondered what he was looking for, exactly.

"This isn't a hand that comes in contact with a Go stone very often…" Akira muttered, too low for Hikaru to hear. "The nails aren't worn down… but then, there are callouses in strange places…"

He looked up then, finally taking in Shindou, deeply and truly. He was about Akira's height, but very lean and clearly physically active, judging from muscle tone alone. He was also wearing a jersey, and matching shorts, and high socks with mud over them. A football player? Akira thought, stunned. No way. And yet, there was no denying that the boy in front of him was certainly an athlete. He would have never expected…

"You play football?"

Shindou smiled. "Yeah! Do you?"

It was probably a fairly run of the mill question, but no one had ever asked Akira this before. "N—No…"

"Oh."

"Are you going to be a pro?"

Shindou's visage fell, replaced with at first surprise, and then incredulity. "A football pro?" He clarified, skeptical.

Akira hastily backtracked. "No—I meant, a Go professional."

"A Go professional?" Shindou repeated, eyebrows rising in shock. "There are—" Hikaru cut himself off, shaking his head. Of course there are Go professionals. He may not know of any, or anything about the profession, or even the game really, but he did know they existed on some level.

"Me?" Shindou pointed to himself, as if Akira could be referring to anyone else. "Wow, no way!"

"No way?" Akira echoed with disbelief. "What does that mean?"

"Well I just…" Shindou paused, scratching the back of his neck. "I couldn't be a Go professional! That's crazy."

"Why is it crazy?" Akira demanded.

"I dunno," Shindou looked taken aback by his tone. "Why, are you?"

"Yes." He answered simply, and suddenly Hikaru could read everything in that tone. It was such a succinct answer, but a telling one nonetheless. He could see that Akira was serious about Go. That he had been playing for years and years, training and getting better, to reach his goal.

"Oh." Hikaru replied, lamely. "Well, that's good for you I guess. I could just never see myself becoming a Go pro," the idea of it made him snicker. "No way! The idea is too funny!"

Akira clearly did not find it funny.

"What's so funny about being a Go player?"

"Well nothing, I guess. But me? Playing that old man's game? I could never! It's fun and all, but not like that."

Akira couldn't believe what he was hearing.

He paused. "Do they make a lot of money?"

"Title tournaments are played for money. If you enter a title match—well, the Meijin match is three hundred thousand… and the Kisei match is four hundred thousand… "

"Whoa," Hikaru blinked. "Wait. How many titles are there?"

"In total, it evens out to about a million in title money."

"No way!" Hikaru gaped. He'd never imagined that Go players could make so much money! Of course it was nothing in comparison to professional football players, but that wasn't an even comparison at all. Considering the magnitude of the game, he hadn't expected it to be very much. "Wow, so if you win a title or two you could make some decent money… That's cool, you could be a pro for a bit and make tons of money!"

Touya's head snapped up at that, expression furious. "Become a pro for a bit?" He repeated, loudly. "Do you have any idea how much work it takes to become a pro?!"

Hikaru reeled back.

"Winning a couple titles… as if that's nothing, as if that's not years and years worth of practice and training! Do you know anything about Go at all?"

"Well no, not really." Hikaru answered, honestly.

Touya stared him down, a brazen, piercing look in his eye. "Play me."

"Huh?" Hikaru was getting whiplash from this conversation.

"Play me. Right now."

/

present.

"Shindou?" Akira looked up, surprised to see a familiar—and yet different—visage greeting him.

It was definitely Shindou Hikaru walking into the go salon, but it was the hair that threw him off guard. He looked… really different with it. Less like a rowdy little punk kid and more like a… well, like a football player. He looked like the kind of boy who all the girls fawned over, Akira thought with no small amount of exasperation.

"Touya!" Shindou greeted, smiling brilliantly. "Thought I'd find you here."

Akira sighed; he wondered with great exasperation if he was just going to have to get used to Shindou popping out of nowhere at the most arbitrary of moments. The boy dropped off the face of the earth, only to reappear later as if he had been there the whole time. Every time Akira attempted to track him down, he ran himself in circles. He'd sort of resigned himself to the fact that he was just going to have to wait for Shindou to come to him. Fortunately he was doing that more often.

He returned the smile wanly. "Were you looking for a game?"

"Yeah! Are you busy?"

"Err—no, not really." He gestured to the chair across from him.

Shindou flopped into it, looking very out of place here in the quiet atmosphere of the Go salon, like a kid who accidentally took a wrong turn and just ended up here somehow. He wondered how accurate that analogy might be. "Cool. Nigiri?"

Akira nodded, sitting up some and opening his go ke.

"How was your break?" He asked casually, holding a fistful of white stones.

Akira placed down two black ones. "Good," he hedged. "Relaxing." It was always nice to have some time to sit in a quiet room and read kifu all day; it was something he enjoyed a lot about his house. It was easy to pass the days in a calm equilibrium, with his father or the study group, or helping his mother in the kitchen. The holidays always passed rather quietly in his house, but he couldn't imagine it any other way.

Shindou got black, and he got white. "How was yours?" He returned the question.

Hikaru shrugged. "Played a lot of football." He replied, evasively.

Akira had expected as much. "How was it?" He asked genially, if only to be polite.

"Oh, we won. Seoul was nice. Really cold though."

Akira blinked. Seoul? Shindou may have mentioned he was going out of the country, but it still struck him by surprise. He'd seen Shindou play the one time, but that was on his school's team, who in Shindou's own words 'we're in it to have fun more than to win', so he wasn't entirely sure if that was indicative of Shindou's true skill. Unlike Go, football was a team sport, and even when one player might be great if the rest of the team isn't at an equal level they won't be any good. Akira had never played a team sport before, but that was just logical sense. Shindou certainly… seemed very talented. All the evidence pointed to him being an exceptional football player.

He wouldn't be playing so often otherwise, and he certainly wouldn't be traveling for international tournaments, or have such an expensive looking wardrobe outfitted entirely in his team colors, or have so many people comment on his skill, or be here, at all.

Akira didn't understand why Shindou would be here at all. This wasn't to say he didn't want the boy around, quite the opposite, but all the same it made no sense. Everything pointed to Shindou being perhaps the world's quintessential star teenage athlete. And yet, here he was, deeply scrutinizing the board to make his first move.

He chose to open on a surprising 6-4, much to Akira's surprise. He stopped ruminating on Shindou's decisions, deciding to instead focus on the present and the game at hand.