The sound of chess pieces clicking against the board echoed softly in the quiet room as Hiroshi stared at the puzzle in front of him. It was a position he would have solved in seconds just a few months ago, but now his mind wandered, his focus splintered. The pressure of balancing football and chess was catching up with him, and it showed.
Takeda-san, Hiroshi's longtime chess coach, stood silently behind him, arms crossed. The older man's piercing gaze never wavered, and Hiroshi could feel it burning into the back of his head.
"Do you see the move yet?" Takeda-san asked, his voice calm but sharp.
Hiroshi frowned, studying the board. He saw the move, but it came slower than it should have. Finally, he slid his bishop across the board.
Takeda-san let out a quiet sigh. "Correct. But too slow, Hiroshi. In a real game, hesitation like that would cost you everything."
Hiroshi sat back, avoiding his coach's eyes. "I've been… distracted lately."
"Distracted?" Takeda-san repeated, stepping around the board to face Hiroshi. "That's an understatement. I've seen the results of your recent matches. Your ranking is slipping. You've gone from a rising star to someone barely holding onto the top tier."
Hiroshi felt a pang of guilt but said nothing.
"Do you know what's causing this decline?" Takeda-san asked, though the answer was clear in his tone.
Hiroshi hesitated, then nodded. "It's football."
Takeda-san sat down across from him, folding his hands on the table. "I understand that you've taken an interest in another activity, but you need to realize something, Hiroshi. Chess isn't just a game. It's a craft, a discipline, and you're wasting the potential you've spent years building."
Hiroshi looked down, his shoulders tense. "Football's important to me too. It's not just a distraction. It's… it's something I love. It challenges me in ways chess doesn't."
Takeda-san's expression softened slightly, but his voice remained firm. "I'm not telling you to give up football. But if you continue splitting your focus like this, you'll end up losing both. Greatness in any field requires commitment, Hiroshi. You must decide where your priorities lie."
The words stung, but Hiroshi couldn't deny their truth. He thought about how his father had echoed similar sentiments, about how he was constantly juggling practices, games, and chess matches. He wanted to prove that he could excel at both, but was it even possible?
"Do you think I can do both?" Hiroshi asked, his voice quiet.
Takeda-san studied him for a long moment. "I think you're capable of great things, Hiroshi. But only if you're willing to put in the work. That means managing your time better, focusing more when you're here, and not allowing distractions to creep into your mind. If you can't do that, then yes, you'll have to choose."
Later that evening, Hiroshi sat at his desk, staring at the schedule he had pinned to the wall. Every day was packed—football practice, chess study, schoolwork, and the rare moments he managed to squeeze in sleep or downtime.
He grabbed a notebook and began mapping out his days more carefully. He needed to cut out wasted time, even if it meant sacrificing some things he enjoyed.
"I can do this," Hiroshi muttered to himself. "I just need to be smarter about how I use my time."
He created a new plan, setting stricter boundaries for when he would focus on chess and when he would dedicate himself to football. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start.
At the next chess session, Hiroshi arrived ten minutes early, already working on puzzles before Takeda-san entered the room.
Takeda-san raised an eyebrow. "You're early."
Hiroshi nodded. "I'm serious about this. I want to prove that I can balance both."
Takeda-san watched him for a moment, then nodded. "Good. Then let's get to work."
The session was grueling, with Takeda-san pushing Hiroshi harder than ever. But Hiroshi welcomed the challenge, throwing himself into every position, every puzzle, every game.
The discipline Hiroshi brought to chess began to bleed into his football practices as well. He started studying defenses and reading playbooks with the same intensity he brought to studying the board. He realized that the two worlds weren't so different—both required focus, strategy, and the ability to think several steps ahead.
During one practice, Coach Ryan noticed the change. "You've been sharper lately, Tanaka," he said after a scrimmage. "Whatever you're doing, keep it up."
Hiroshi smiled, his confidence growing. "I will, Coach."
That night, Hiroshi sat at his desk again, reviewing his schedule and refining his plans. He knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but he felt a renewed sense of purpose.
He thought back to Takeda-san's words: "Greatness requires commitment."
Hiroshi wasn't ready to give up on either passion, and now, he was determined to prove that he didn't have to. With better focus and discipline, he would rise in both worlds—on the chessboard and the football field.
As he turned off his desk lamp and lay down to sleep, Hiroshi felt a quiet confidence settle over him. The journey was just beginning, and he was ready to face it head-on.